what's best for Hannah and you make certain she knows it, too. The only time Hannah is really herself is when she's messing with me because I've made her angry."
"You mean you hurt her," Sarah accused, beginning to lose her own temper, but angrier with herself than with him, because she was beginning to suspect he might be right—and that would mean they had all pushed Hannah into doing something she didn't want to do. It would be like Hannah to stay quiet even if she was miserable.
He shoved a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. "I don't mean to hurt her. I want her to stand up for herself, to be who she really is, not who she thinks we all want her to be. When I make her angry, believe me, the real Hannah comes out."
"She isn't like that."
"She's a pleaser. You know she is. She wants everyone around her to be happy. You all expect her to be successful, and not just moderately successful; the demand is for a high achiever. All of you are fantastic at what you do…"
"And so is she."
"But she detests it. She'd prefer to live quietly, to stay at home and just keep everyone happy."
Sarah shook her head.
"That idiot agent of hers tells her to lose weight and instead of telling him to go to hell because she's so afraid she won't be perfect enough for all of you to love, she starves herself. I kept thinking she'd finally be done with it and walk away, but she's killing herself, slowly maybe, but it amounts to the same thing. So I'm going to put a stop to it."
"I think you're wrong," Sarah said, but it was no longer the truth.
Jonas swore softly. "I should have stopped her from leaving."
"Nothing could have stopped her, Jonas, she made a commitment and Hannah always honors her commitments." Sarah turned her back on him, once more staring out the window at the sea. Far out, through the gray fog, she swore she saw twin columns of water, whirling cyclones, spinning across the surface. The water had gone dark and turbulent, much like she was feeling. "What happened to my calm, peaceful day, Jonas? I was going to curl up on the couch and watch my sister do her thing since I couldn't be there in person."
Jonas turned back to the television. "Did Hannah really ask you if you could go to the event?"
"Yes."
There was a long silence while three models came out together and walked the long runway, pausing to do a turn as they strutted, their attitude a performance in itself.
"She invited me as well."
Sarah stiffened, whirling to face him. "She did what?" A chill crept down her spine. Goose bumps rose on her arms.
Jonas turned to face her and, for the first time, allowed her to see how ravaged and drawn he was. "She's never done that before. She knows I hate it. Why would she ask me, knowing I'd be sarcastic and mean if I went with her?" There were shadows in his eyes. "I haven't slept in days, Sarah."
"Why didn't you tell me right away? For God's sake, Jonas, you're like us. You know you have your own gifts. If you feel something is wrong, you have to say so."
"I'm not like you, not really," he denied, this time shoving both hands through his hair, leaving him more rumpled and distraught than before. "I just figure if anything is really wrong, you'll know. None of you have indicated there's a potential problem so I just ignored the feeling I had. I don't have any special powers, Sarah. I don't."
She flashed him a look of disbelief. "Why couldn't you sleep?"
He shrugged again, muscles rippling across his arms and back as he paced restlessly. The TV announcer began describing another gown by a famous European designer, once again drawing Jonas's attention so that he stopped and stared at the screen. Hannah moved into the bright lights to a thunderous applause, spiral curls in platinum and gold hanging to her waist, her famous blue eyes shadowed with glitter to match the gold threads gleaming through the dress.
"Sometimes when I look at her," he admitted, talking more to himself than to Sarah, "I can't breathe. I've
"You mean you hurt her," Sarah accused, beginning to lose her own temper, but angrier with herself than with him, because she was beginning to suspect he might be right—and that would mean they had all pushed Hannah into doing something she didn't want to do. It would be like Hannah to stay quiet even if she was miserable.
He shoved a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. "I don't mean to hurt her. I want her to stand up for herself, to be who she really is, not who she thinks we all want her to be. When I make her angry, believe me, the real Hannah comes out."
"She isn't like that."
"She's a pleaser. You know she is. She wants everyone around her to be happy. You all expect her to be successful, and not just moderately successful; the demand is for a high achiever. All of you are fantastic at what you do…"
"And so is she."
"But she detests it. She'd prefer to live quietly, to stay at home and just keep everyone happy."
Sarah shook her head.
"That idiot agent of hers tells her to lose weight and instead of telling him to go to hell because she's so afraid she won't be perfect enough for all of you to love, she starves herself. I kept thinking she'd finally be done with it and walk away, but she's killing herself, slowly maybe, but it amounts to the same thing. So I'm going to put a stop to it."
"I think you're wrong," Sarah said, but it was no longer the truth.
Jonas swore softly. "I should have stopped her from leaving."
"Nothing could have stopped her, Jonas, she made a commitment and Hannah always honors her commitments." Sarah turned her back on him, once more staring out the window at the sea. Far out, through the gray fog, she swore she saw twin columns of water, whirling cyclones, spinning across the surface. The water had gone dark and turbulent, much like she was feeling. "What happened to my calm, peaceful day, Jonas? I was going to curl up on the couch and watch my sister do her thing since I couldn't be there in person."
Jonas turned back to the television. "Did Hannah really ask you if you could go to the event?"
"Yes."
There was a long silence while three models came out together and walked the long runway, pausing to do a turn as they strutted, their attitude a performance in itself.
"She invited me as well."
Sarah stiffened, whirling to face him. "She did what?" A chill crept down her spine. Goose bumps rose on her arms.
Jonas turned to face her and, for the first time, allowed her to see how ravaged and drawn he was. "She's never done that before. She knows I hate it. Why would she ask me, knowing I'd be sarcastic and mean if I went with her?" There were shadows in his eyes. "I haven't slept in days, Sarah."
"Why didn't you tell me right away? For God's sake, Jonas, you're like us. You know you have your own gifts. If you feel something is wrong, you have to say so."
"I'm not like you, not really," he denied, this time shoving both hands through his hair, leaving him more rumpled and distraught than before. "I just figure if anything is really wrong, you'll know. None of you have indicated there's a potential problem so I just ignored the feeling I had. I don't have any special powers, Sarah. I don't."
She flashed him a look of disbelief. "Why couldn't you sleep?"
He shrugged again, muscles rippling across his arms and back as he paced restlessly. The TV announcer began describing another gown by a famous European designer, once again drawing Jonas's attention so that he stopped and stared at the screen. Hannah moved into the bright lights to a thunderous applause, spiral curls in platinum and gold hanging to her waist, her famous blue eyes shadowed with glitter to match the gold threads gleaming through the dress.
"Sometimes when I look at her," he admitted, talking more to himself than to Sarah, "I can't breathe. I've
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