Chapter 3: A new beginning

Days had passed and turned into a week. Clay went through his daily routine in a dreamlike state. Of course he had to go to school, but most of the time it took only a brief look at Hannah's empty chair for his mind to start wandering. Where was Hannah now? How was she doing? Was she getting better? Would she ever come back?

Not a single day passed without his teachers catching home off guard and unprepared, not having the slightest idea what the lesson actually was about. Some gave him sympathetic looks, others reminded him that he had to take care of his marks. Clay didn't care...

Finally Clay decided, that he had to do something. He couldn't stand the fact any longer that he didn't have any news on Hannah except for the wild rumors that were spread at school - and Clay had long since given a shit when it came to certain people's gossip. But what could he do? The only ones that could answer his questions for certain were Hannah's parents. But how should he approach them, what should he ask? The didn't even really know him...

Out of pure restlessness Clay grabbed his helmet and went for the door. "Mom, I'll take a ride with the bike. I'll be home for dinner. Bye!"

With no definite route in mind he biked through town. Maybe the physical exertion would help to clear his mind or at least to come up with an idea what to do. Lost in his thoughts about what had happened, he found himself taking the road to Hannah's home. Maybe his subconsciousness had taken over and made the decision he himself had been too afraid to make. He stopped and stared at the front door. Only a few steps and he could ring the bell and maybe get all the answers he needed. Rooted to the spot he tried to make up his mind.

Andy Baker was sipping his coffee, when a guy with a bike helmet right in front of his door caught his attention. He just stood there, looking straight at the door and made no attempt to move.

"Olivia, this guy out there", standing at the window he pointed at the street, "isn't he the one that was with Mr Porter when we had to fetch Hannah at school?"

Olivia took a moment to look Clay over, then nodded. "You know, I think he's got a whole lot of questions and is looking for answers", Olivia turned to her husband. "You remember his good-bye to Hannah back then at the car? There's something special about him and Hannah, I guess. Maybe you should go out and talk to him. Man to man."

Andy Baker sighed. "If you think so."

"Yeah, I think so. Take a look at his face - he seems troubled and worried. And maybe having someone from her peers Hannah can turn to when she comes back, isn't such a bad idea after all. He might be just the right one."

Andy Baker sighed again, then went for the door.

When the front door opened, Clay was startled. Staring at the door suddenly felt awkward. Just when he sat a foot on the pedals again, he heard someone calling for him. "Hey. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Clay turned around and saw Hannah's dad coming down to the street. "I think we've met briefly. You were at the school when..."

Clay nodded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude... I'm Clay Jensen, a friend of Hannah's."

"I'm Andy Baker, Hannah's father, but I guess you know that." For a short moment both of them went silent. "Well, if you're here, why don't you come up and take a seat on the front porch with me. You probably do have a whole bunch of questions."

Clay looked at his feet. "Umh, yes, I do. But I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay." The two of them went up to the porch and sat down. After a moment of silence Mr Baker began. "You know, not many people showed up in recent times asking for Hannah and how she's doing. So the fact that you're here tells me, that you actually care for her. I can't answer all of the questions you might have, but maybe at least some of 'em." Clay nodded slowly. "Hannah isn't home yet. She had a breakdown and needs psychological treatment. I don't want to go into details here. It will take time to stabilize her, before she may return home. Concerning the future, returning to school and so on, we can't yet tell and haven't decided, if or when this is going to happen. If you want to, I can tell her that you've been here - and, we could call you up when she's back home and ready to see some of her friends again. That's the best I have to offer right now."

Clay took a deep breath and nodded. "Sounds good to me. Thank you for taking the time and telling me, Mr Baker."

So again there was nothing for Clay to do but wait. He felt like a prisoner waiting for his discharge, counting every single day.

Then finally the long awaited call came. "This is Andy Baker, Hannah's father. You remember, I've promised you to call when Hannah would be home and ready to receive visits again. If you want to, you can come up, not for too long, but I think she actually might like some company." Of course Clay remembered, how could he forget? Within a minute he was on his bike, the helmet dangling lopsided on his head.

His first visit was as brief as Hannah's dad had indicated and he could almost feel the ever vigilant eyes of the Bakers. So they sat there on the front porch, side by side. Hannah pale and silent and Clay hands trembling and like so often searching for the right words to say - "I'm glad you're back home and it's good to see you again..."

A smile flashed on Hannah's face. "It's good to see you, too. I'm not yet ready for much talking. So if it's okay for you, can we just sit here in the sun for a while?"

Clay grinned an nodded. And so they just sat there, enjoying each other's closeness.

Back home, after Mr Baker had made it clear, that Hannah needed to rest again, Clay sat on his bed with mixed feelings. How long had he been waiting for this moment. And on the one hand it had felt so good to see Hannah again, but on the other hand he had felt so helpless, knowing that whatever troubles Hannah had been going through, it wasn't over yet. And he wanted to help, but didn't know how. He racked his brain trying to come up with an idea, what he could do or bring for his next visit to add his share to Hannah's getting better. Hannah liked poetry, he knew, but he was far from being a poet and whatever he could come up with, it wouldn't fit the situation. But if not a poem of his own, maybe... He decided that he would visit that small book-shop downtown, perhaps the bookseller could help him finding something appropriate.

Dripping from the rain Clay stood in front of the Baker's door. He had come there straight after school and a quick visit to the book-shop.

Olivia Baker opened the door, smiling when she saw Clay. "Hi Clay. We half expected that it was you... Come on in. Hannah's in the living room. You can leave your jacket with me."

When he entered the living room, Clay found Hannah on the sofa, a book on her lap. "Hi Hannah." Clay stood there, turning the book in his hands. Why in all the world did this awkwardness always come like out of nowhere? He saw and felt Hannah looking at him and heard the Bakers just around the door in the kitchen.

Hannah turned to Clay. "Why don't you sit down with me? You brought a book?"

A sheepish grin on his face Clay nodded. "Umh, yeah. I now you do like poetry. But actually... it's not poetry... but it's a very poetic story... so, umh, if you want me to, I can read it to you..."

Hannah smiled. "It's been a very long time since somebody read a book to me. Probably my mom, back when I was a small child. But I like the idea. It's cute."

Clay could feel his face turning red. He took a deep breath and, mustering his courage, began:

"It was a late afternoon and one could feel the caress of a soft breeze upon one's hair. There was a sense of foreboding in the air.
At times like this people yearned for tales and they asked wise old Rhaman to tell one of his wonderful stories. The sage smiled. He took a moment to think, then he said: 'We will meet at the stone palm, when the campfires are lit.'

'Stone palm? What do you mean?' they called.

'Look for it... Look for it. You cannot miss it!' And he walked away.

Before night fell they had found the tree. Next to the many palms at the beach, that in their slender and elegant beauty seemed like women beckoning, this one stood apart. But its mighty, dark green fans ever so lightly touched the other trees.
It was a strange palm tree! It was stout with a mighty stem and broad fan leaves, that moved with visible restraint quite unlike the mirth that made the other palms appear so feminine. But the most remarkable about this palm was its treetop! The tree with its fan leaves tilted toward its center.

'Look closely', the old teller said who sat in the middle of its audience, 'watch out for the next gust of wind.'

And then they saw it. As the breeze blew apart the fans, they saw it: in the heart of the palm tree, where otherwise the light green sprouts edged towards the sun, there rested a heavy reddish stone, a stone like countless others that lay at the beach.

Rahman didn't wait for questions. With a wide gesture of his arms he indicated his audience to sit down in a circle. A fire was lit. The night fell quickly and darkness covered everything like a soft blanket.

The gleam of the campfire reached the trunk of the mighty palm and painted bizarre signs on its bark: Whenever a bright flame flickered, the crown of the sweeping tree could be seen.

'Shall I tell you how this large stone got up there?' Rahman began his tale. 'Well, this happened many, many years ago when this mighty palm was but a young sprig. Back then there were no homes around here and there was no well, either. Just a few palm tress were at the beach. These trees and and the palmetto could do with the nourishment that the sandy soil and the moisture that the sky gave to them.

The little palm tree loved the sound of the sea and the music of the waves. It loved the soft breezes of the afternoon and the sudden fall of darkness, the cool and shadowless nights. And it loved the moon whose light - in a clear night - painted on the sea harsh silhouettes and long stripes, which gave a notion of endlessness.
The young tree knew the desert only a few meters behind it. But it had no concept of it, did not know what this meant: waterless and empty. It was healthy and happy palm.
Until the day when the man came.

He came from the desert. He had wandered about for days and had lost all his belongings, he almost had lost his sanity to thirst and heat. His hands were sore from his futile attempts to dig for water and his whole body was filled with boundless pain. Now this man stood at the shore of the sea, gazing at its wide, endless and salty water.
The man threw his parched body into the water, his chapped lips and dry tongue burnt from thirst, but the salty water couldn't quench it. Raging anger welled in the man. 'I have a right for water', he screamed. 'I want to live because I have the right to live!'

He took a large stone. His anger gave him strength his parched body almost couldn't summon. And he began to scream. He screamed against the immensity of the sea, screamed against the ever burning sun, he screamed against the desert and at the inaccessible crowns of the palm trees. Menacingly he lifted the stone. His arms trembled and it seemed as if all his strength was finally lost. Right then, between all the debris and sand, he saw the small palm tree, freshly green and full of hope for every new day.

'Why do you live?', the man yelled. 'Why do you find nourishment and water while I have to die of thirst? Why are you young and beautiful? Why do you have everything and I nothing? You shall not live!'

With all the strength he had left he smashed the stone in the middle of the palm tree's heart. It crunched, crumpled and cracked. It seemed as if the these sounds were multiplied into the endlessness of the desert and the sea. And then there was silence, a horrible silence!

- From the corner of his eyes Clay could see a shiver going through Hannah's body. -

The man collapsed by the small palm tree. Two days later he was found by some cameleers. People report that he was saved.

None of the drivers cared for the small, shattered sapling. It was almost buried beneath the burden of the stone, its death seemed inevitable. Its bright green leaves were broken off and the withered fast in the blazing light of the sun. Its soft heart had been squashed and the big stone weighed so heavy on the fragile stem, so that it seemed as if it would snap in the lightest wisp of wind.

- Pausing for a moment, Clay could see Hannah's hand clenched to fists. He continued. -

But the man could not kill the small palm tree. He could hurt it, but he could not kill it.

When the young tree heard the cracking of its branches and shoots, when it felt the burning pain that became a blurring mass of pain and pain again, something else happened. The small tree felt something totally different, too, something, that had no connection to all hurt and pain - a first wave of strength. And this wave became bigger, it seemed to fall into a rhythm with its waves of pain and in time these waves became longer an longer, until the sapling's strength became bigger than its pain. The young tree tried to shake off the stone. It pleaded the wind to help it. But there was no answer and no help. The stone still lay in the heart of the palm tree and it did not stir.

'Surrender', the small palm tree said to itself, 'the stone is too heavy. It's your fate, to die this young. Resign yourself! Let go!'

But there was another voice, and this voice said: 'No, it isn't too heavy. You just have to try, you have to do it!'

'How?', the young tree asked, 'How shall I do this? The wind cannot help me. I'm alone in my weakness. I cannot shake off the stone.'

'You don't have to shake it off', the voice said again, 'you have to accept the burden of the stone. Then you will witness how your strength grows.'

And in all its distress the small palm tree accepted its burden and wasted no more of its strength in its efforts to shake off the stone. It took the stone into the middle of its crown. Its roots became longer and stronger and clung to the ground, as with twice the burden the small tree needed twice the footing.

Then came the day, when the roots of the palm tree dug so deep, that they reached a water vein. Water welled to the surface and this spring made this place an oasis of delight and prosperity.

Now, when the tree had secure footing and lasting nourishment, it began to grow taller. Sturdy and stout fans it built around the stone. It almost seemed as if it was protecting the stone.

The palm tree's stem grew more and more in size and even if all the other palm trees around it were more charming and graceful, the palm tree the people had begun to call the Stone Palm was by far the mightiest of them by far. It had been challenged by its burden and it had accepted the fight against its timidity. And it had finally won this fight. It had uncovered a well that has since then quenched the thirst of many a people. And, what certainly was most important, the palm tree had accepted its burden and had lifted it up high. The stone is still there in the palm tree's heart, but it had moved to place, where it had become bearable. Only the outward burden seems unbearable to us. If it's accepted, then it becomes a part of us.'

- Silent tears rand down Hannah's face. -

Rahman, the story teller, laid both his hands on the palm tree's trunk. The fires was almost extinguished and one after the other, his audience left the place."

Clay closed the book. He sat there and didn't know what to say or do next. He had put all his emotions and feelings for Hannah into this story and his reading. And he could see and feel the impact it had on her. Had he done the right thing? Or would she yell at him to leave, like she had done back then at the party, in a moment when he had felt so close to her as he had never done before?

In the kitchen, Olivia and Andy Baker looked at each other. When Clay had begun reading to Hannah, both of them couldn't help but listen, intrigued by the intensity with which Clay told the story.

Olivia Baker, a single tear rolling down her cheek, had taken her husbands hands and now she silently motioned him to leave the door frame. They felt like intruders into this very intimate moment Hannah shared with her friend. "We should give them some privacy", she whispered to her husband who nodded in agreement.
"This was such a wonderful story. Seeing our darling in this palm tree... Maybe she'll really get through all of this and might even grow as a person in doing so. Where did this guy even get this story? He didn't seem very talkative to me so far. But he seems to have a deeper understanding of our little Hannah... I think, this one's a keeper."

Andy Baker just smiled. Whatever helped his daughter to get better and his family to go back to a kind of normal, it was fine with him.

Meanwhile Hannah had gulped down the lump in her throat and fought to get back her composure. The story Clay had read to her had moved her, both because she clearly saw it's meaning and how it referred to her own situation and because he had just done the right thing at the right moment. "Would you mind staying a little bit longer?", she asked Clay. "I don't feel much like talking right now, but it's good to just have you by my side..."

Clay blushed and grinned. "Whatever you need, it's fine with me."

Hannah moved on the sofa and laid her head on his lap. She could feel him breathing, the slow rise and fall of his chest, and it gave her a sense of comfort she had missed so much. Ever so gently and with hands trembling Clay began to stroke her head, his hands trailing through her dark locks.

When Hannah sighed and stirred, he abruptly withdrew his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Oh, shut up", Hannah interrupted. "Would you for once stop always apologizing for what you're doing? There's no need for that. I know what I did to you back at the party. And I can assure you, it wasn't you. It was me and all the things that happened to me. The demons that haunted me overwhelmed me... Part of me wanted you to go, another part of me wanted you to come back and stay... Now you have come back! And so right now I'm feeling save and secure, with you around I'm better than I've been for a long time..." Her voice trailed off. "The story you just read to me ... of course you know that ... I could see me being this palm tree ... and I could hear the confidence in your voice that I'll be better, that I'll be strong enough to get through the hell my life has been ... Helmet, promise to me, that you'll be to me like the whispering voice of the story, my constant reminder that a better future is waiting ahead of me."

A genuine smile crossed Clay's face. "Of course I will. You know that. I've promised to you to be there for you, to listen and to do whatever it takes for you to heal. There won't be any missed opportunities anymore!"

Slowly Hannah sat up and turned her face to Clay. Ever so gently he took her head in his hands, looking Hannah straight into her shimmering blue eyes. Hesitating for only a single moment he lent forward and gently kissed Hannah. First on her cheeks, then her lips. A kiss, so different from their first kiss at the party. A kiss, so careful, tender and pure. These weren't raw emotions, it was utterly deep and honest affection. It was love.

Author's note:
Writing this third and certainly last chapter of my story took me a lot longer than planned. The story Clay reads to Hannah isn't mine, it's a legend that I found in my library - a long time ago I read it to a friend of mine in a similar situation. I only have a German version and couldn't find any in English. So I had to translate this very poetic text into English which was pretty hard for me. Besides, family and job kept me pretty busy. So enjoy the final chapter and the happy ending!