Hannah’s Journey

By Kay Davis

Hannah Smallwood is no stranger to personal tragedy. At age eight, she lost her parents and was sent to live with an aunt she barely knew. Years later she has somehow managed to emerge from her heartbreak stronger, more self-assured, and focused on her career. Still, there is just one person from her past she has never forgotten: the first man to break her heart, Micah Ray.

Despite her unresolved feelings for Micah, Hannah is certain she still likes men. Unfortunately she has not met one she is willing to risk her heart on—until her hunky neighbor, Dylan Cook, introduces himself one day. While she is contemplating what to do about the magic she feels with Dylan, Micah unexpectedly reenters her life. Still, Hannah and Dylan’s chemistry cannot be denied, and they soon marry. But when tragedy strikes again, Hannah must face the ghosts of the past before she can ever embrace the hope of healing and decide if lasting love is worth it all.

Hannah’s Journey shares the tale of one woman’s journey to find love, and herself, as life leads her down an imperfect path lined with new beginnings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Sep 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781489711410

Kay Davis

Kay Davis attended Lamar University with a pursuit in undecided life goals. Later, she focused on acquiring a more formal education from the school of life experiences. To date, she has written seven-and-a-half manuscripts. Kay lives with her husband in Arkansas. Hannah’s Journey is her debut novel.

Book preview

1

‘A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,’ Lao-tzu said, Hannah mumbled to herself as she stepped into the concourse of Houston Intercontinental Airport. It’s AD 2009, not the fifth or sixth century BC. I sure hope he knew what he was talking about and that it still applies nowadays, she said with a weary smile.

You’ve been waiting for this single step for, well, at least eighteen years, and New Guinea is closer than you think. So buck up with Nike, and just do it, Ruby said with an amused grin on her face.

Hannah gathered her bags, along with her flagging determination, and headed for the check-in desk. It was early—even for her. Her flight left at five, and she was there at three. Nothing must go wrong. Even a seasoned traveler such as herself knew that people could miss something that would prohibit them from their flight times, and she was taking no chances.

She hugged Ruby in thanks and boarded as soon as they opened the doors. She settled back into the first-class seat of the airplane on the first leg of her location-changing mission. I wish I knew how this will play out, she thought. I wish Aunt Jacqueline was here. She’d give me pointers on what to say and how to say it. Then exhaustion overtook her, and she fell asleep somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico.

In 1968, eight-year-old Hannah Smallwood was placed in the custody of a female deputy for her long trip from Oregon to Houston. It was not the length of the trip that made the journey so long and arduous; it was the ending of one way of life and the beginning of something unknown and frightening.

Life goes on, Hannah, her daddy had told her many times. You can go with it or fight it. It’s your choice. But that doesn’t mean you have to settle. You can still change the outcome, but you get nowhere by getting mad and using your energy to cause trouble for others. Think about it, my little bantam rooster.

Hannah was now concentrating hard and using all her energy to remember. She had to remember. All she had left were her memories of this life and the way they had all loved each other. She had bought a journal and would write everything she could remember in that book during the trip. She would spend the next week on this bus with the latest member in the parade of strangers who had recently passed through her life—a woman who held Hannah’s future in her official-duty hands—and Hannah would have nothing but time for remembering.

Her most vivid remembrance was the laughter. Their family enjoyed laughter, and both her mama and daddy were always laughing at something. If it was not something one of them did, it was something she did or something they saw happening around them. They would encircle each other in their arms and laugh at things that one or both of them had said. Sometimes they would bring her into their circle and tell her something that would make them all laugh. Those times were special, and though they were not rare, everyone looked forward to them with anticipation. This bond had reinforced the team, the family unit that she had trusted and depended on without even being aware of it. Now she longed with her whole heart to have that feeling back.

She remembered how her daddy always smelled of the outdoors and the way her mama was always smiling and smelled like fruit. That recollection might have been because of the orchard, or it might have been a true remembrance of their scents—this she couldn’t say—but she liked to believe it to be the fragrance her mama wore and the way home and safety smelled on her daddy.

Hannah had never looked as if she belonged to her parents. She resembled someone who had just walked in out of the Irish countryside, with her thick, rich, wavy auburn hair; clear fair skin; freckles; and green eyes. She looked as Irish as Irish could be, and she certainly had the fiery temperament of her fighting ancestry to prove it—especially when provoked. No one in her family, neither her parents nor her grandparents, had her fiery Irish demeanor, so they were unsure whom to blame for Hannah’s disposition. They were trying to curb this trait, when their lives and efforts were cut short, and Hannah was sent to her aunt’s home in Houston.

Somewhere on the trip between Oregon and Texas, the fire that had propelled her through life went out of its own accord.

The few stars that could be seen on most early mornings in Houston were blinking as if they sensed the coming of the brightly glowing sun that would hide their fire again until evening. Hannah had just come outside into the cool darkness of the early pre-dawn air to start stretching prior to the beginning of her run in dawn’s first light. She chose this time of day so that she was seldom bothered by man or beast. With the air as clear as it ever got in Houston and the temperature as cool as the busy industrial area would allow, she began her run down her street and through the sleeping metropolis on her chosen path.

During this time of day, her thoughts seemed to come more vividly and with greater aplomb. In the world of advertising, in which she was employed, it was often hard to know what to think or feel with so many different truths being manipulated on a continual basis. Many distorted thoughts and values came to consumers daily via the constant propaganda that every group tried to prove viable.

One group pushed for the consumer to not eat certain foods that another group declared one could not be healthy without. One auto maker could prove their cars were better, and a second would use virtually the same data to prove that their automobiles were far superior to all others. The trend was replicated in different versions throughout life, and only with a clear head could one make sense of it all. This was the haze that she helped create on a daily basis—and the fog from which she needed to escape with each sunrise.

In July 1982, after she and Aunt Jacqueline had returned from a trip around the world—Hannah’s graduation present—Hannah seemed to struggle to get back into her running routine. She did not know the reason, but somehow, she found it more difficult to get into her usual easy rhythm.

As she now passed the end of her third mile, with her mind clear, she began reciting to herself the speech she would give at the Women in Photography awards ceremony. She’d been blown away by the invitation to present the speech, but she knew it was mostly because her aunt was one of the premier female nature photographers in the country, possibly in the world. Hannah’s talents, while considerable for her age, were amateurish in comparison to her aunt’s, but her talent for presentations was not. Hopefully she would wow these women with her words, if not with her photographs.

"People are people. One person is not greater or lesser than another if we judge everyone at the moment of birth. Almost immediately, choices will be made that will affect the quality of people’s lives forever. We are our choices, but we are also our biology. When we use our particular inherited abilities to attain the desired outcomes in our lives, we become who we were meant to be. Those who are happiest and most successful have not drifted through life being reactionary or taken the path of least resistance but have forged ahead while making a completely new path of their own choosing. They’re able to see the outcome before them in the way a mule pursues a dangling, shiny red apple that is just out of his reach but never out of his sight, which entices him to keep going.

"From the moment we are born, someone is dangling some apple in front of us. We choose to bite or not according to what we have been preprogrammed to choose and according to what we have, through education, learned to choose as the better path. This choice is made according to our own view of our environment and our propensity for a clear understanding. As with all who have come before, the results of this choice will determine the next set of choices that we face.

"Sometimes when we look back on our lives, we see more plainly the steady path we have traveled to where we are. We see the receding and surging of the seemingly random pathways our choices have led us through. It’s like being at the beginning of a maze, where nothing is known, but upon completion, we are able to clearly see where we have been. However, it is this distinct pattern of options that have made us who we are. No one else has had our particular choices coupled with our exact DNA, our priceless lessons, and our unique abilities and experiences.

We may exit the womb in virtually the same configuration as everyone else, but the similarity ends there, as we become unique and travel our own roads in our own ways. We may follow the masses, or we may forge our own path, and as Robert Frost so aptly put it, ‘That has made all the difference.’

That was good so far, she thought as she rounded the corner on the last hundred-yard stretch back to her driveway. She still had a few finishing touches to add before she could present the speech, and she was glad she was only one of many who would have a part in the beginning of the ceremony.

Good morning, the new neighbor said.

Oh, I—good morning, Hannah replied breathily as she walked on her cooling laps.

She hadn’t noticed him outside that early in the morning before, but perhaps she had not been looking. He was handsome in a rugged, outdoorsy way. She tried to look at him without appearing to be looking. She found that hard to do, but from what she could see, he was attractive. He was blond, tan, and muscular but not bodybuilder bulgy. Probably, she thought, a little less than six feet tall and maybe one hundred sixty pounds or so in weight. A nice package—and so nicely groomed.

Suddenly, she became aware that if she could see him, he could see her. With growing alarm at her own droopy appearance, she turned up her drive and went into her house. Without turning around, she could feel his eyes on her the whole way.

Why did he have to see her when she was returning from her run? Why couldn’t such a handsome man have seen her at her best—like in an hour, when she was leaving for work? Why did she even care what he thought? Well, because he was gorgeous, and she wanted him to appreciate that she looked good.

Hannah headed into her room and then into the bathroom to take a shower. She did not have time in her life right now to think about a man, even one so handsome. So far, that line of thought had led only to misery, and she was not about to waste herself on a casual fling. She had better things to do with her energy.

From the age of eight years on, Hannah had tended to be reserved and leery of others. This character flaw had caused her to give the short reply to his greeting. Nonetheless, in her own mind, given her present state of unpolished grooming, that morning would not have been the time to open up and become an extravert.

She was a deep thinker but not one to dwell on the whys and why nots. At no time in her life had she ever dreamed of anything more than what her current circumstances were. Yes, she had worked at bettering her situation, but she had not sat back and dreamed of things she was not willing to work toward. Whatever happened to her, she took it stoically without questioning beyond What do I need to do to reach that goal? or How do I get through this?

Hannah’s childish, inexperienced eyes viewed life as a vague and endless today, nonexistent yesterday, and unattainable tomorrow. She saw everything in either black or white and pigeonholed the world into good and bad cubbies, each holding the promise of pleasure or the threat of pain.

Since she had been brought up surrounded by love and goodness, she believed the world, and everyone in it, was that way. She had been taught early on that consequences came with every choice and that she had to depend on her own character—along with sagacious parental guidance—to get through them. As a result, she saw any predicament those choices placed her in as a puzzle to solve that would end in her ultimate success. Through those successes and a few failures, she learned her strengths and a million ways to compensate for her shortfalls so she might build a life that both was meaningful for her and contributed to the betterment of her personal sphere of influence: her team.

Attitude is everything, Hannah, her daddy had repeatedly told her. Have a bad attitude, and everything will go badly for you. Have a good attitude, and there is nothing you cannot accomplish with hard work and forethought.

Her personal favorite quote from her dad was the following: Attitudes, platitudes, happy dudes—it’s all up to you. Of course, she wasn’t a dude, but the phrase rhymed, and she knew he said it to her out of love—and love was everything.

Daddy, how’d you get to be so tall? she asked one day.

All this clean air, good food, and great genes made me this way, Hannah. Our farm is the best place in the world to grow up.

Will I be tall too?

Maybe, but you probably won’t be as tall as I am. Girls usually aren’t, he said.

Tell me the story about you and Mama again. It’s so romantic, Hannah said.

He laughed at her dreamy-eyed comment. What do you know about romance? You’re only seven.

I know a lot from watching you and Mama.

Watching me and Mama do what? he responded cautiously.

Oh, uh, kiss and stuff, she said in a small voice. I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore.

Do what? he asked.

Watch you kissing, she said sheepishly.

See that you don’t—that’s for Mama and me and is none of your business. Understand?

No, but I do understand not to do it anymore.

Well, he said, satisfied with her answer, when I graduated from high school, I moved down to Houston to go to college.

That’s in Texas—a long way south of Oregon, where we live now.

Yes, it is. Anyway, I was going to college there at—

At the University of Rice, and you met Mama there.

At Rice University, he said, laughingly correcting her, and yes, I met your mama there. Hey, who’s telling this story anyway?

You are, Daddy. I’m sorry; I’ll be quiet. Please tell me the rest, she said, smiling and feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Anyway, I was a freshman and a long way from home. My older sister, Jacqueline, lived in Houston, and she came to visit me or had me come to her house whenever I could so that I wouldn’t be lonely or homesick, and that helped me to like it there.

"One day I saw this beautiful, charming blonde girl with a quick smile and a warm, friendly personality at the help desk at the library. I pretended I needed help finding a book that was a long way from her desk, and we talked as we went to find it. I kept going back every day so that I could talk to her again.

"Finally, I got the courage to ask for her phone number and asked if she’d like to go out with me sometime. She accepted a date to go get a root-beer float and then show me around town. Houston is big, and since she was from there, she knew her way around better than I did, so that was a good way to be sure that I would have her company for several weeks.

"Before long, I was in love. Unfortunately, it took your mama a little longer to decide that I was the one for her. We dated for almost three years before she agreed to marry me.

Our commencement ceremony was—

That means the day you graduated! Oh, sorry.

He began again. "Our graduation ceremony was on May 29, and we had to have that behind us before she would agree to marry me. So we planned a small garden wedding on Wednesday, June 7, 1958, for our vows.

Your mama was the most beautiful bride I had ever seen, he said with a smile, knowing what Hannah would ask next.

Tell me how she looked, she pleaded, starry-eyed.

She had on a long white lace A-line dress with a pink bow around her waist and short sleeves. She wore a veil with pink ribbons in her hair and pink shoes, and she carried a bouquet of pink roses. I could not stop staring at her and smiling. It was one of the happiest days of my life.

I wish I could wear pink so I could look just like Mama.

You look just fine the way you are. Don’t ever try to look like or be like anyone but yourself. You’re the only person who can be you. You’re unique and special just the way you are, so don’t ever change. Anyway, we invited your grandparents, and they came to Houston for the ceremony. Of course, your aunt Jacqueline was there too. Your mother had an aunt and uncle who raised her, and they were there as well. Since we had just graduated, we made our honeymoon be the move back to Oregon, and we built our house and started our life together. You were born two years later.

And Mama took to country living like a drop of rain does to a pond, Hannah proudly declared.

How colorful. You’ve been working on your metaphors again, he said proudly.

Mama’s a good teacher.

Yes she is, but you’re a good student too.

Hannah smiled and blushed at the compliment from her daddy. Her life was joyous, and she thrived in the love of her parents and grandparents. She settled in on his lap, content at having heard her story, and together they rode the tractor down the almost endless rows of apples for the rest of the morning.

Two days after her sixth birthday, a single phone call changed their lives forever. They were just sitting down to supper, when the phone rang, and her daddy rose from his chair to answer.

Hannah and her mama could hear a man’s voice on the other end of the line.

Yes, this is Jason Smallwood, her daddy said.

There was a muffled pause as the caller spoke.

Yes, Alexander and Veronica Smallwood are my parents. What is this all about?

There was another muted pause, from which they could gather nothing.

Hannah and her mama watched as her daddy slowly sat down and covered his eyes with his big, calloused hand. They stood helplessly by and watched as he seemed to stop breathing and hang on every word spoken into the phone.

I see, he replied. I’ll have to make a few arrangements.

There was another pause.

Yes, I understand. I’ll be there. Thank you for calling, he said, and with a small exhaled puff, all three of their lives were tragically altered.

Hannah listened carefully as her daddy related what little he knew of the story. His parents had taken their new boat out off the coast of Washington. It was a trip they had made many times before, but this time, somehow, they had had been swept overboard. Their boat had been found empty, and then their bodies had washed up on shore. It had been a foggy night and morning, and the authorities assumed they had hit a submerged rock, though the boat showed no sign of damage.

The days that followed were a bit much for a six-year-old. She watched her daddy and mama cry and felt a huge need to comfort them but did not know how. She was afraid to go near the caskets, and that kept her from having closure. Years later, she could remember only that she had loved them and felt a terrible emptiness from the loss.

Please, can I go, Daddy? Alice is going, and she wants me to be there so we can do things together.

Hannah, you’re just seven, and it’s a long way up the mountains. I’m not sure you’re ready for a week at camp. Maybe the first time, we had better just let you go for a day or so.

I don’t want to go for just a day or so, and I will have Alice with me, so I won’t be afraid.

No. Not this time; maybe next year.

That’s not fair. I want to go this year.

Nobody ever promised you that life was fair, young lady—and if you persist in this conversation, you will be punished.

At that comment, hot tears rolled down Hannah’s cheeks, and she turned on her heels and went out the back door at a full run. She ran to the barn and cried into her hands as she felt the sting of disappointment at the unfairness of being seven and unable to do whatever she wanted. How would she ever be able to tell Alice that she could not go?

A few weeks later, Hannah went off on one of her many scientific expeditions. This time, she was following a squirrel to see where and how deeply he would bury his stash of nuts.

Before she started for home, a sudden storm blew in, and it turned dark and started to rain. In the heavy darkness and downpour, she got lost. She knew where she was, just not where that was. She holed up in the overhang and shadow of a fallen log and waited for morning.

Her parents were frantic to know where she was. She had never failed to return home for supper, and they called the neighbors and, finally, the sheriff to help locate her.

As soon as Hannah saw the first searchlight, she ran from her hiding place to find it, asking, What are you looking for?

The light she found belonged to Alice’s daddy, and he took her straight to her parents. Once they knew she was all right, Daddy told her she was grounded.

That’s not fair. I knew where I was—I just couldn’t see and was waiting for it to stop raining and get light enough to come home.

You’re never to do that to us again. Do you understand? Daddy said.

Yes, Daddy, but I didn’t do it on purpose. I was following a little squirrel and lost track of time, and then the storm blew in so fast that I couldn’t see, and I found shelter in a log.

Well, you can think about that—and how you scared us half to death—in your room.

That’s not fair, Hannah said.

You said that already. It doesn’t matter if it’s fair or not. You scared us, and for that, you’re being punished. End of discussion.

That’s not right, and when I grow up and have kids, I’m never going to punish them for things that aren’t their fault. I’m going to be fair and listen to them.

Please, Daddy, can I go to camp this year?

Is Alice going?

Of course, Daddy. We’re best friends, and where she goes, I go.

So is that the way it is?

Yes, and I’m going, she said, stomping her foot.

Whoa, young lady. You don’t tell me what you’re going to do. You ask me if you will be allowed to go, and your mama and I will talk about it and will be the ones to decide. Then we will let you know our decision.

Hannah stood defiantly for a moment and then, with boldness, asked, Well, when will you let me know if I can go to camp with Alice?

Like I just said, your mama and I will talk about it and let you know. You had better watch your attitude, or you will not be going anywhere but to your room.

I’m sorry, Daddy. Last year, I asked to go, and you wouldn’t let me, and Alice had so much fun. She came back and said it was superb and that the only thing that would have made it any better was if I had been there. I was afraid if I just asked you, you’d say no again.

Well, keep in mind that Mama and I will make the decision, and it will most likely depend on how you act between now and when we have to make up our minds. Remember your attitude.

Yes, sir. I will. I’ll be good.

On the Friday before camp was to begin on Monday, her parents gave her their permission and blessing, and Hannah was ecstatic. Could life be any better?

Hannah and Alice arrived at camp on Monday afternoon and were immediately paired as bunkmates. They swam, hiked, caught butterflies and fish, and enjoyed every minute of it. However, when the week was over, they were eager to go home.

Hannah had her things