Hush

by Nicole Hart

  “Hey, it’s your supervisor.” I put my hand over the receiver to muffle anything that might come out of Jackson’s mouth in a drunken stupor. I hadn’t paid much attention to him this afternoon, and I wasn’t sure exactly how much he’d had to drink.

  “Hmm…” He glared at me, his eyes cold, while his tumbler of whiskey spilled on the arm of his chair.

  “It’s your boss…” I whispered, begging him with my eyes to sober up enough to take the call. He worked really hard to finally get his promotion, and I didn’t want liquor to ruin it for him—for us.

  “Fuck, for what?” The slur in his speech disgusted me, and I wanted to drop the cell in his lap and walk away.

  “I don’t know. It’s Sunday, though—it’s probably important.” I shoved the phone in his direction once again, becoming more frustrated by the second.

  “Hello?” His voice was too low, and I could only hope his boss assumed he’d been taking a nap. His slurs were always way more noticeable for me than they were anyone else. It was a curse really since it was impossible to ignore.

  I walked out of the room, unable to bear listening to his voice in this state. I knew he wouldn’t get fired for being drunk on a weekend, but he got a little mouthy sometimes, and I didn’t want that to happen in this situation. I heard a “yeah” and an “okay,” but otherwise, it was silent, and I was thankful because the fewer words he said, the better.

  Silence followed shortly after, so out of curiosity, I made my way back to the living room. Jackson had assumed the same position he was in before I walked in the first time, only now, his tumbler lay empty on its side next to the chair.

  “What was that about? Is everything okay?” I swiped the glass from the floor and tried to ignore the stench of alcohol that wafted from it.

  “What?” His tone startled me. When he looked up, his brows furrowed.

  “I was just wondering if something was wrong,” I snapped back, refusing to be talked to like shit simply because he was drunk.

  “There’s some memorial at the campus tonight; all the staff has to be there,” he grumbled, looking at the floor beside him for his drink.

  “A memorial?” I didn’t know what he meant. This was the first I’d heard of anything like this at his school, especially it being required on the weekend.

  “I don’t know, some vigil, he said.” He stared up at me with squinted eyes.

  “A vigil? Someone died?” My stomach sank at the thought of it being a student at the school—or anyone else for that matter.

  “Yeah.” He blew me off, closing his eyes and tilting his hat lower.

  “Who? What happened?” I would ask questions if he wasn’t going to tell me on his own.

  “Fuck, I don’t know, Rach…some kid,” he shot back at me before closing his eyes again. His words cut right through me, and I had to force my anger down, refusing to fight with him right now, because I knew what needed to happen.

  “What time do you have to be there?”

  “Eight.” His voice was barely a whisper as it left his lips.

  “Just take a nap, I’ll drive you.” I turned on my heel and walked out of the room as his snores began.

  He didn’t need to drive, even after a nap, so I had to make sure he got there safely. Plus, it was only right to pay my respects. I didn’t know who the child was, or what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. No parent deserved to go through that. And I knew all the other students must be devastated. I only hoped the student hadn’t been drinking and driving. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened on the campus. But no matter the way it happened, it shouldn’t have.

  My stomach sank at the thought of the sadness we were soon to witness.

  Belford Christian University.

  The freshly painted blue and white sign boasted a glare from the setting sun. My eyes adjusted as we got out of my car and made our way to the perfectly manicured football field.

  There were streams of people making their way alongside us toward the field, to the left of the parking lot. My stomach clenched with discomfort as I watched the faces of countless mourners. Most of them wore blank stares and walked in silence. But the two young girls behind us were talking, and it caught my attention.

  “I just can’t believe this happened. He was so nice, why would someone do this to him?” The voice directly behind me softened before the higher-pitched one chimed in.

  “I don’t know, it’s so sad.”

  Disgust and confusion consumed me at the same time. The tightening in my chest made it hard to breathe at the thought of this being a deliberate act. This wasn’t a car accident or a sickness—this was intentional, and it shocked me. We lived in a large city, but it was a seemingly quiet one. You didn’t hear about bad things happening very often.

  “It’s really scary. I hope they catch whoever did it.” The first girl spoke once more before the two became silent the rest of the walk into the stadium. I glanced over at Jackson, hoping he had listened to the conversation but came to the realization he hadn’t been paying attention. He wore a blank expression and stared straight ahead, although my prying eyes were begging him to look over at me.

  As the crowd gathered around a small podium in the center of the field, a few students began handing out candles inside plastic cups, each one using the one before the pass the flame.

  Jackson’s bored and annoyed expression got under my skin. Why didn’t he have more compassion for what happened, for the poor kid’s parents? I knew this whole event was disrupting his drinking time, but the fact that whiskey was more important upset me even more. I couldn’t pinpoint the day that alcohol had taken such a high priority in his life, but I had no doubt it was there.

  “Thank you all for coming,” a somber voice boomed over a loudspeaker, causing me to jump. “It’s a sad day at Belford University, and I know everyone is in a state of shock. And although Jasper’s parents aren’t here tonight, we do want them to know we’re thinking of them and praying for them during this tragedy.”

  Sobs began to echo around me as the man continued to speak about the life of this young man that was unexpectedly cut too short. I focused on his voice until the moment a face appeared on the jumbo screen.

  The image was of a young man with black hair that wisped over his eyebrows, his big, honey-colored eyes radiated innocence. And although he was good looking, that wasn’t what drew my attention to the large photo in front of me. My breathing became shallow when I realized just how much he reminded me of Jackson. The resemblance was uncanny, and the lump in my throat grew larger.

  I pried my eyes away from the screen and back to the podium as a uniformed officer stood beside the other man.

  “Please know that the Belford Police Department is doing everything they can to get answers. But this is something we’ve never experienced before at BCU, and we are asking that if anyone has any information, no matter how small, please contact the authorities. Nothing is insignificant.” He paused and scanned the crowd, allowing us time to absorb his words. “As most of you know by now, this is an open investigation, and we ask that you give the family their privacy during this time. But we are here now, to honor the life of Jasper Huitt. His sister, Kelly, requested that we play a couple of his favorite songs to honor him, and that’s what we will do as we close. Please feel free to stay as long as you need. We won’t rush anyone out. Thank you.”

  My eyes were drawn back to the large picture of the boy as the music began to play.

  “Let’s go,” Jackson demanded before turning his back to me and making his way through the horde of people behind us.

  I wanted to argue that we should at least wait until the music was over, but he weaved through the somber bodies without taking a moment to glance back. So I followed his path, repeatedly apologizing as I made my way through the mourners.

  I jogged a few steps once I cleared the students in order to catch up with Jackson.

  “Why are you in such a rush?” I asked quietly a
s we made our way closer to my car.

  “Because I’m ready to get home. It’s my day off. I made an appearance. Good enough.” He stood at the driver’s side door, tapping his foot and holding his hand out for the keys. He didn’t seem drunk anymore, but I didn’t want to take the chance of him getting pulled over.

  “I can drive.” I scooted past him to get closer to the door.

  “I can drive.” Where my words had been meant to soothe him, his were anything but. Irritation hung heavy in his voice, as well as his actions when he grabbed the keys from my hand.

  “Whatever. I’m not fighting with you.” I rolled my eyes and walked around the car to the passenger side, sliding inside my Honda.

  We were both in sour moods, so instead of talking—or arguing—we shared the space in silence. I pulled my cell phone from my purse and opened the Safari app, needing to know what had happened to the poor kid. It didn’t take long to find the story.

  LOCAL COLLEGE STUDENT FOUND DEAD IN TRINITY PARK.

  My hand went over my mouth as I scrolled through the article, reading about the All-American college kid who was strangled in his car and left for dead in the wooded area of the park close to the university. There were currently no leads, but there was an active investigation.

  “He was murdered,” I vocalized my concern, glancing over at Jackson. When he didn’t acknowledge me, I continued to myself. “That’s so sad.”

  “Yep.” His one-syllable response left me unnerved.

  “Where’s your compassion?”

  “Fuck, Rach. I didn’t know the kid. You can’t get all emotional over every person who dies. You’d be sad all the time,” he snapped at me but didn’t look in my direction.

  “Well, okay then,” I uttered beneath my breath. With my attention set on the blur of trees outside the window, I wondered where the man I married had disappeared to. The one who cared about my feelings more than anything else. The one who did everything within his power to make me happy. I hadn’t seen that man in a long time.

  As soon as we got home and walked through the front door, Jackson went straight to the kitchen. I knew his first stop was the liquor cabinet. But I ignored him as I made my way to the bathroom, deciding a long bath would be a good distraction from him and his whiskey.

  I relaxed my body into the steaming water that smelled of jasmine with a hint of lemongrass and tried to shut my mind off, doing my best to concentrate on the music in my ears. But the only thing I could focus on was the face from the big screen on the football field.

  “Did you have a nice lunch?” I beamed at Amie as we walked back into the office at the same time.

  “I did. I met my husband for a quick bite. How about you?” She ran her fingers down her perfectly pressed, black pantsuit while I opened the door for her.

  I glanced down at my sundress and sandals, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that I would never be the fancy, pantsuit-wearing type.

  “It was good.” I spent my lunch hour watching the ducks at the pond while eating a turkey sandwich, so I couldn’t complain. It was peaceful and took my mind off everything that had happened last night.

  Jackson had passed out shortly after I got out of the bath, so we didn’t speak for the rest of the evening. While Jackson snored, I’d tossed and turned, thinking of the poor student who’d lost his life. By the time I awoke this morning, he was already gone, which was normal. I wouldn’t see him again until later tonight after I visited Mama. But the truth was, it was possible he would already be asleep again. Either from the whiskey or the August heat—probably a combination of both.

  After listening to the voice messages, I peeked my head into Amie’s office. “Your one o’clock said they will be about ten minutes late.”

  She glanced up from the stack of paperwork in front of her and stared at me over her reading glasses with a smile. “Okay, no problem.”

  I walked over to the coffee bar to set out fresh cookies when I heard the quiet ring of the bell over the door, alerting me that someone had come in.

  “Hi, how are you guys?” I began to speak before turning all the way around.

  When I caught sight of what walked through the door, my heart began to race. My eyes were immediately drawn to the little girl, around seven years old, with long, caramel-colored hair and expressive blue eyes. She held the hand of her father, and my eyes were pulled to him, up his lean, muscular body. They shared the same hair color and captivating eyes, icy blue enough to put you in a trance. I tried not to allow myself to linger on his face, and instead, focused on the innocent child in front of me. She had a tight grip on his hand and pushed herself close to his body, staying closer with each step they took.

  “Hello, I’m Landon Beck, and this is my daughter, Lindsey. We have an appointment with Dr. Ross. I’m sorry we’re a little late; I left a message.” He spoke with a deep, Southern drawl that caused me to hang onto each and every word that fell from his lips. But guilt washed over me, and I pulled myself together, knowing gushing over a patient’s father was completely inappropriate. Not to mention, I was a married woman who had no business gawking at a stranger.

  “It’s absolutely fine. We’re glad you’re here. I’m Rachel.” I tried to hide my blush before continuing. “Let me go tell Dr. Ross you’re here. You’re welcome to have a seat. There’s fresh coffee and warm cookies if you’d like.” I gave him a nod before bringing my attention to the little girl next to him. She seemed nervous, and I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, so I simply gave her a quick wave with a smile. And with her ocean-blue eyes wide, she repeated the motion before I turned my back and began to walk down the hallway.

  “Your appointment is here,” I spoke quietly, popping my head into Amie’s office.

  She stood from her desk, and with a nod, she said, “Thank you.”

  I stood to the side, allowing her to walk in front of me.

  “Hello, Landon, it’s nice to meet you.” Her soft and comforting demeanor was evident as she shook his hand. Then she slightly lowered her body and turned her attention to the child next to him.

  “And you must be Lindsey. It’s very nice to see you. I’ve been looking forward to talking to you.” Her smooth voice practically dripped with honey as she spoke to the child, who simply stared at her, eyes wide and voice still.

  “Would you like to go to my office so we can talk?” She held out her hand while the little girl looked up at her father, waiting for instruction.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. Daddy is going to be in there with you, okay?” He placed his large hand on the top of her head, then gave her shoulder a squeeze. Amie didn’t speak; instead, she just waited.

  “Can I have a cookie first?” Her meek voice was almost inaudible, so soft, just a tiny whisper.

  Landon looked in my direction, causing me to jump into action, while Amie beamed back with a smile.

  “Here you go.” I pulled two chocolate chip cookies from the tray and wrapped them in a napkin before walking closer to where they stood. I bent down slightly, holding the folded napkin in her direction, but close enough to her father so he could take them in case she wasn’t comfortable doing so.

  I couldn’t help but stare at her—she was so beautiful and so innocent. But there was such sadness in her eyes that I felt the need to weep. And unfortunately, that was the nature of this job. I saw kids who suffered, and in turn, it caused me pain. But I always tried to remember that they were here for help, and Amie was so great at her job, I could physically see the sadness fade over time.

  To my surprise, she gently took the cookies from my hand and did her best to give me a tiny smile, although it was obvious it didn’t come easily for her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, staring at me with large eyes.

  “You’re very welcome.” I grinned and almost had to look away as her stare pierced straight into my heart.

  “How about now? Think we could go talk to Dr. Ross?” Her father ruffled her hair, and she looked up at him with a toothy
grin just before she bit into her cookie.

  “Okay.” She nodded and pulled his hand into hers.

  “My office is just down the hall.” Amie stood straight and led them out of sight.

  I took my seat at my desk, trying to focus on the tasks at hand, and kicked myself for gushing over some random stranger. Any woman would have been crazy not to notice just how gorgeous he was or the way sex dripped from his voice. But this was my place of employment, and he was a patient—or the father of a patient—and it wasn’t professional. And even if it was just in my thoughts, it wasn’t right. He came to get treatment for his daughter, not to get ogled by some secretary. I rolled my eyes at my own ridiculousness and forced myself to concentrate on my work.

  “How’s she doing today?” I shuffled past Sara and walked down the hall toward Mama’s room before waiting for a response.

  “I don’t think she’s feeling well. Her face was a little flushed, and she was running a low fever. Nothing bad, but I convinced her to take some Tylenol a little while ago.”

  “She took it?” I looked over my shoulder, stopping in my tracks.

  “It wasn’t fucking easy—I had to convince her for at least half an hour that it was just something to get her fever down so she would feel better.” Sara shook her head with her hand on her hip.

  Mama hated taking any medication. I remembered when we were younger that she would take sleeping pills frequently, and I didn’t know if maybe that had something to do with her reasoning. Maybe she was scared she wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t have a clue, even though Sara and I had gone over this a million times, trying to crack her reason for the resistance. I had so many questions for her, and I wished she would speak. But I wasn’t going to dwell on something I couldn’t change, no matter how much I hoped and prayed for it.

  I opened Mama’s door and saw that she was sleeping peacefully, the sound of her tabletop waterfall trickling throughout her room. I didn’t want to disturb her, and I was in no hurry to get back home, so I decided to wait for her to wake on her own, and I would visit with her then.