went back to scrubbing the wall. She scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until not only the lines of Brandon’s drawing but the paint under it gave way.
Brandon grabbed hold of Hannah by both wrists. “No!” he cried and pushed her to the floor. He redrew the image, the eye of the crow now taking three-dimensional shape within the shallow cavity Hannah had just created in the wall’s surface.
Hannah got up and started on another wall, washing away the sketch of a coyote standing as a man.
“Stop it!” Brandon roared, and slammed her against the wall.
Jesse loomed in the doorway. Hannah caught a glimpse of Gina behind him. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” he said.
Hannah shook Brandon off and slopped more soapy water onto the wall. “I’m cleaning up his mess.”
“She’s destroying my art,” Brandon said.
Jesse went to his daughter and took hold of one hand, then the other, to stop her restless scrubbing. But Hannah slipped from his grip and went on cleaning. “That’s enough, Hannah. This isn’t the time,” Jesse said.
“There’s nothing wrong with Bran,” Hannah cried. “Nothing!”
“Nothing,” Brandon echoed. He dropped to the bed and went back to his feverish sketching, mumbling to himself. “Nothing, nothing, no thing, no thing, something, some thing…”
Hannah looked at him a long moment, then turned back to her chore. Jesse took her arm to stop her, but she struggled with him, fighting to wipe Brandon’s madness from the walls. It was only when Gina said Jesse’s name that he finally let go, leaving the red imprint of his thumb on his daughter’s arm. It would become a bruise.
“Hannah,” Gina said from the door. “You can’t wash this away.” She stepped forward to put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “You’ve done enough. You took care of your grandfather for a long time. We’ll let Jesse handle this one, okay?” She eyed Jesse.
After a moment, Jesse nodded. “I’ll take care of this.”
Gina wrapped her arms around Hannah from behind, to stop her, to comfort her. Hannah dropped the scrubby and hung her head. “I can’t do this again,” she said.
“We know,” Gina said. And she rocked her, even though Hannah remained stiff in her arms.
Hannah looked at her brother as he chanted nonsense in a singsong voice.
Something, nothing, no thing, some thing, thing, thing, thing…
In the few minutes they had been in this room he had completed a drawing that would have taken her hours: theface of a native boy about Brandon’s age who glared up at her from the paper with an expression of fury. She looked away, to the animals on the walls—the coyote, the bear, the fox, the crow—and each of them, in turn, stared back at her.
— 11 —
Elopement Risk
IN THE HOSPITAL elevator, Hannah eyed the photograph of her grandfather on a poster with a caption that read:
Elopement Risk
. As if her grandfather was at risk of committing this rash act of happiness. Stew was caught hunched over his tray, clearly trying to wrench it off, his face panicked as the flash hit, his eyes red.
Hannah had received a call from the hospital that morning. Her grandfather had left his ward using his canes and was waiting for a taxi outside the building when staff in emergency saw him in his hospital gown and led him back inside.
The elevator door opened.
“Is it really necessary to put my grandfather’s photo in the elevator?” Hannah asked the nurse, Annette, as she approached the reception desk. “And how did he get that far without anyone noticing?”
Annette said, “We had no idea he was that mobile. Or that determined.”
“Maybe if I’d stayed on Tuesday, waited until he woke up, I could have calmed him down.”
Annette held her hand up. “You can’t blame yourself. You’ve got a life to live too. You can’t be here every day.”
“He should be at home.” Hannah strode to her grandfather’s room but he wasn’t in it. The bed was neatly made and a man in overalls was
Brandon grabbed hold of Hannah by both wrists. “No!” he cried and pushed her to the floor. He redrew the image, the eye of the crow now taking three-dimensional shape within the shallow cavity Hannah had just created in the wall’s surface.
Hannah got up and started on another wall, washing away the sketch of a coyote standing as a man.
“Stop it!” Brandon roared, and slammed her against the wall.
Jesse loomed in the doorway. Hannah caught a glimpse of Gina behind him. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” he said.
Hannah shook Brandon off and slopped more soapy water onto the wall. “I’m cleaning up his mess.”
“She’s destroying my art,” Brandon said.
Jesse went to his daughter and took hold of one hand, then the other, to stop her restless scrubbing. But Hannah slipped from his grip and went on cleaning. “That’s enough, Hannah. This isn’t the time,” Jesse said.
“There’s nothing wrong with Bran,” Hannah cried. “Nothing!”
“Nothing,” Brandon echoed. He dropped to the bed and went back to his feverish sketching, mumbling to himself. “Nothing, nothing, no thing, no thing, something, some thing…”
Hannah looked at him a long moment, then turned back to her chore. Jesse took her arm to stop her, but she struggled with him, fighting to wipe Brandon’s madness from the walls. It was only when Gina said Jesse’s name that he finally let go, leaving the red imprint of his thumb on his daughter’s arm. It would become a bruise.
“Hannah,” Gina said from the door. “You can’t wash this away.” She stepped forward to put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “You’ve done enough. You took care of your grandfather for a long time. We’ll let Jesse handle this one, okay?” She eyed Jesse.
After a moment, Jesse nodded. “I’ll take care of this.”
Gina wrapped her arms around Hannah from behind, to stop her, to comfort her. Hannah dropped the scrubby and hung her head. “I can’t do this again,” she said.
“We know,” Gina said. And she rocked her, even though Hannah remained stiff in her arms.
Hannah looked at her brother as he chanted nonsense in a singsong voice.
Something, nothing, no thing, some thing, thing, thing, thing…
In the few minutes they had been in this room he had completed a drawing that would have taken her hours: theface of a native boy about Brandon’s age who glared up at her from the paper with an expression of fury. She looked away, to the animals on the walls—the coyote, the bear, the fox, the crow—and each of them, in turn, stared back at her.
— 11 —
Elopement Risk
IN THE HOSPITAL elevator, Hannah eyed the photograph of her grandfather on a poster with a caption that read:
Elopement Risk
. As if her grandfather was at risk of committing this rash act of happiness. Stew was caught hunched over his tray, clearly trying to wrench it off, his face panicked as the flash hit, his eyes red.
Hannah had received a call from the hospital that morning. Her grandfather had left his ward using his canes and was waiting for a taxi outside the building when staff in emergency saw him in his hospital gown and led him back inside.
The elevator door opened.
“Is it really necessary to put my grandfather’s photo in the elevator?” Hannah asked the nurse, Annette, as she approached the reception desk. “And how did he get that far without anyone noticing?”
Annette said, “We had no idea he was that mobile. Or that determined.”
“Maybe if I’d stayed on Tuesday, waited until he woke up, I could have calmed him down.”
Annette held her hand up. “You can’t blame yourself. You’ve got a life to live too. You can’t be here every day.”
“He should be at home.” Hannah strode to her grandfather’s room but he wasn’t in it. The bed was neatly made and a man in overalls was
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