by Jane Blythe
What had happened here at her store wouldn’t destroy her.
And it wouldn’t make her go back to that dark place.
She had worked so hard to get out of the dark and claw her way back to the light, or even the dull, she couldn’t go back there. Not under any circumstances. So, she had no choice but to process the robbery, deal with it as best she could, and move on.
Dwelling on the gun-wielding robbers wasn't going to be productive, and today was all about productivity. She had a lot of work to do. The cops and crime scene unit were finished in the store, and since, including today, there were only six shopping days left until Christmas, she had to get this place cleaned up so she could open tomorrow.
Her store was one big mess. There were glass shards all over the floor from where the robbers had smashed all the glass cases. She didn't remember hearing them do that, but obviously they had because the glass was everywhere and she could see some of her stock was missing. What they hadn’t grabbed was half still in the broken counters and half littered throughout the glass. The seven-foot Christmas tree that had been in the corner was lying on its side, fairy lights and tinsel tangled on the floor around it, and shattered decorations were scattered about. There was fingerprint powder everywhere from the crime scene unit, and she knew that through the door into her workroom, there was still the giant puddle of Jeff’s blood.
Tears threatened to swamp her.
She loved her store, but now being here was torture. Her mind wanted to keep replaying last night’s events over and over on a loop until it sent her insane.
“Deep breaths,” she ordered herself out loud. “Deep breaths.”
Following her own instructions, Hannah cleared her mind of everything else and focused on simply inhaling air through her nose and letting it whoosh out through her mouth.
When she felt marginally calmer, she faced her store.
She could do this.
One step at a time, just like always.
First thing she had to do was collect up all her inventory that have been left strewn about and put it in the safe where she could go through it later and make a list of everything that had been taken.
Unable to face the workroom and all the blood, for now she just left everything in a box by the door.
Once that was taken care of she couldn’t put off going through into the rest of the store any longer. She needed a broom to sweep up the glass and something to wipe down all the powder.
With another steadying breath, she opened the door, and without letting herself pause and over think things, she stepped through it. Her breathing quickened, and she began to shake. Hannah had to sternly remind herself that the gun was no longer in here and that Jeff was going to be okay.
This was silly.
She was going to have to do something about the gun phobia. She’d never really worried about it before because it wasn't like she came into contact with guns very often. Or ever. Last night had been the first one she had seen since the night of her assault.
But her phobia had nearly gotten her and her employees killed.
It was time to face that fear and find a way to conquer it. After Christmas, she would call her therapist and see about maybe trying some exposure therapy to work through her gun issues.
Feeling better now that she had decided to take action on overcoming her phobia, Hannah headed to the cupboard in the corner and collected cleaning supplies. For the next hour or so she was so immersed in her tasks that the fear and horror of the robbery began to fade, and the store began to feel more like it used to.
Finally, she paused and stretched her back.
There was only one task left.
The blood.
She’d been putting it off because the guilt that swamped her whenever she looked at it was almost crushing.
How could she ever face Jeff again? He had tried to save her from being shot and gotten himself shot instead.
She sucked her bottom lip in and chewed on it, forcing back the tears that burned the backs of her eyes.
Jeff was going to be okay. She just had to keep reminding herself of that, as many times as it took for it to sink in.
Filling a bucket with water, she sank down on her knees and soaked the cloth, ready to begin scrubbing, but she just couldn’t. She felt so overwhelmed. It had been a long time since she felt this way. And part of it was seeing Tom again. That brought up memories from her rape, which had eventually led to their divorce.
The towel Tom had used to clean her up last night still lay discarded, right where she’d been sitting. Hannah picked it up and studied it as though it held the answers to the questions swirling around inside her head.
She was so confused about Tom.
She had never been so hurt in her life than when he had told her he was leaving. After everything they had been through, she’d thought they would be together forever.
But he’d seen things differently.
He had seen her as a helpless victim, and neither of them had been able to work around that perception.
Was she a victim?
Yes.
Was she helpless?
Never.
While she wanted to regain the sense of strength and confidence and stability that had been ripped away from her, Tom wanted to hold her in his arms and rock her and promise her that everything would be okay.
But being coddled didn't help her.
And being told everything would be okay certainly didn't help.
She’d been brutally raped. How could anything ever be okay again?
Just because things couldn’t be okay didn't mean they couldn’t get better. She had worked so hard to rebuild her life. She had gone to the victims’ support group and talked with other survivors of sexual assault about how they were coping. She had seen her therapist religiously and worked diligently on everything the woman had asked her to do. She had taken her medication even though the idea of taking it left her a little uneasy. And she had kept going with all the regular things she did in her life—work, gym, shopping, chores, eating out, seeing friends—when most days all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry.
She had fought for her life because she didn't want her rape to define her.
Not that it had been easy.
And it really hadn’t.
It had been hell.
Almost as bad as enduring the assault itself.
She’d had nightmares. Regularly waking several times a night screaming or drenched in an ice cold sweat, she’d had flashbacks to the assault. She started becoming hypervigilant of her surroundings, constantly checking everyone who was around her and trying to judge whether they could be a threat or not. She started to obsessively check things like whether every door and window in the house was locked before she went to bed, sometimes spending close to an hour just circling the house checking them repeatedly.
With time, she had learned to manage all those things. The fear was still there, like a distant shadow hovering in the recesses of her mind. The compulsion to vigilantly study her surroundings and to check and recheck her home each night was always there. Hannah knew those things would never leave her, but so long as she could manage them, then she felt like she had overcome what had happened to her.
She just wished that Tom had seen it the same way.
He had wanted to fix everything for her, and what had happened couldn’t be fixed. It could only be treated.
He had been supportive of her seeing a therapist and comforted her more nights than she could count when nightmares had plagued her. But he couldn’t shake the need to save her.
She hadn’t needed a savior; all she’d needed was her husband.
But he had walked away.
And she had let him.
Not because it was easy, but because letting him go was what was best for him.
Hannah couldn’t blame him for leaving. Three years ago, when everything had been so fresh, she had been such a mess. They had both known she had a long road ahead
of her, and she couldn’t really fault him for choosing not to walk it with her.
And she knew that he had been suffering, too. She had asked him several times to come and see a therapist with her, or to go on his own if he preferred, but he hadn’t been ready to admit that he needed it. Tom couldn’t accept that what had happened had happened to both of them, and that both of them needed time to heal.
She wasn't angry with Tom for walking away from their marriage; it just hurt. A lot. So much that she wasn't sure she could ever move past it. She still loved him. Probably always would. But sometimes love wasn't enough. She hadn’t thought that those feelings would ever be stirred up again. They were divorced. She had her life; he had his. There was no reason for their lives to intersect.
Until yesterday.
Now, for the next little while at least, Tom was back in her life.
He was an added complication when she really didn't need one.
She scrunched her eyes closed and wished she could make the last twenty-four hours so they never happened.
Instead, when she opened her eyes, she saw Tom standing in front of her.
* * * * *
11:47 A.M.
Her eyes, which today were a desolate blue gray like the ocean on a winter’s day, widened in surprise when she opened them to see him standing there. “Tom.”
“You shouldn’t be here on your own.” He said the words without thinking, and only because he hated to see Hannah suffer. And he knew being here cleaning up the mess from last night’s robbery would make her suffer.
Immediately, her eyes darkened and she scowled at him. “I'm not a child, I can do things myself. I don’t need someone to come in here and clean up for me. There are only a few days left until Christmas, and I want to make the most of them.” With that, she sloshed the towel in her hands into the bucket of water at her side, sending droplets splashing all over the place, and began to scrub the floor.
“I never said you were a child, Hannah,” he said softly. He didn't know why she got so crazy every time he expressed concern.
“You always treat me like one. Like I'm helpless and useless and couldn’t possibly be able to cope all on my own.”
He had never once thought of Hannah as any of those things. Quite the opposite, in fact. He thought she was smart and strong, more resilient than he could ever imagine being. “I'm sorry if I gave you that impression, but I don’t think you're helpless and useless. I never thought that.”
Hannah merely harrumphed and continued scrubbing vigorously at the bloodstain on the floor.
For a moment, all Tom could do was stare at it.
What if Jeff Shields hadn’t come in when he had? Then it wouldn’t be his blood spattered all over the floor and walls. It would be Hannah’s.
To know that she had come so close to being shot choked him up in a way that made him know that no matter how much time passed or how much distance there was between them, part of him would always love Hannah.
Tom went to her, crouched at her side, and put his hands over hers, stilling them. “I never thought you were incapable of coping on your own. I don’t know why you’d even think that.”
“You don’t know why I would think that?” she repeated incredulously. “Maybe because after the attack you hovered over me constantly, wanting to do everything for me, acting like you could just wipe it all away by pretending it never happened. Well, it happened, Tom. It happened.”
“I know it happened. I was there.”
“Yeah, you were. So, maybe instead of trying to coddle me, you should have encouraged me to get strong again.”
“I did.”
“You didn't. You treated me like a victim.”
He bit his tongue to keep from reminding her that she had been a victim. “I don’t know why you acted like me wanting to be there for you was such a bad thing. You pushed me away every chance you got.”
“I never pushed you away.”
“That was all you did.” Sometimes it felt like they had lived in two completely different worlds after the assault.
“Wanting to do things for myself wasn't pushing you away.”
“It was like you didn't want me around anymore.”
“You're the one who walked away, not me.”
“I walked away because it was what you wanted.”
“How did you know it was what I wanted? Did you ask me? No, you didn't. You just assumed that and walked out the door, never looking back.”
“You shut me out at every opportunity, Hannah.”
“You were smothering me. You treated me like if you didn't hover at my side every second I was going to shatter into a million pieces. You wanted to focus on me so you didn't have to admit that you were struggling every bit as much as I was. You're not superman, Tom, and I didn't need you to be. I just wanted you to be you. But you wouldn’t do that. Either I let you take care of me or nothing. Well what if I wanted to take care of you, too? We should have been taking care of each other.”
He didn't know what to say to that.
Was she right?
Had he been so stubborn that it was either his way or no way?
He had honestly thought that Hannah hadn’t wanted him around anymore. That she had chosen to shut herself off and deal with what had happened by herself—without him. But obviously she saw things differently.
“I'm not broken, Tom. I would never let those men win and break me. Only you didn't see it that way. You saw me as a project to fix. Not as a human being anymore. Not as your wife anymore.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, making them bluer. “You threw our marriage away because you didn't support me getting better.”
How could she even think that? Didn't support her getting better? That was ridiculous. He would have done anything to help Hannah get through what had happened. “I don’t know why you say such absurd stuff.”
“Absurd was throwing away a marriage because you were too stubborn to admit you needed help, too.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Yes, it was.”
“No, it wasn't.”
“Yes, it was.”
“No, it wasn't.”
“Yes, it was!”
“You’re impossible,” he huffed, releasing her hand and standing, stalking across the room, aggravated. Why did she have to argue about everything? Why couldn’t the two of them be in the same room together without things disintegrating into childish bickering?
“Well, there’s the door; feel free to use it.” She shrugged with a perfect air of disinterest he would have believed if he didn't know her so well. The slight tremor that rippled through her told the story of how her emotions were in disarray.
The tremor reminded him of how badly she’d been shaking when he’d arrived here last night.
Which reminded him of the robbery and just why he’d come looking for her.
Getting distracted with arguing wasn't helpful right now. He had a job to do. So long as he kept reminding himself that this was just a job, and that he could walk away again once it was complete, he should be able to get through it without endless quarreling.
Hannah’s life was nothing to mess with, and he would take her frustrated lashing out so long as it kept her safe.
Just a job.
If he had to remind himself of that a hundred times a day, he would.
Just a job.
He returned to her side, picked up a towel, and began to help her clean the floor.
“I thought you were leaving.”
“For once, just let me help you without arguing. You don’t have to do everything on your own all the time.”
She said nothing, and for a while they worked in silence.
When they were done, he took the bucket and emptied it out in the bathroom. When he came back into the workroom, Hannah was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, her head tipped back and her eyes closed.
“Why are you here, Tom?” she asked without opening her eyes.
“Because I'
m worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will. But something feels different about the robbery at your store.”
That prompted her to open her eyes and look at him. “Different, how?” she asked suspiciously.
“I'm not convinced it was committed by the same people who committed the others.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Hannah looked confused.
“There are some differences. The main one being that a gang of three armed men robbed the other stores, and only two armed men held up you and your employees.”
“Maybe one just couldn’t be there last night,” she countered.
“Maybe. But I don’t think it’s related.”
“So, there’re two groups of thieves looking to make a quick buck robbing jewelry stores this Christmas?” She closed her eyes again, and wearily rested her head back against the wall.
“Maybe.”
Her head snapped up. “What do you mean maybe? What else could it be?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Chloe was right, he had to make sure he wasn't seeing monsters where there weren’t any just because of his history with Hannah.
“Tom?”
“It probably is just two gangs of thieves committing robberies.”
“But?” she prompted.
“But I just want you to be careful, in case it’s something else.”
“Something else like you think this could be personal?”
“Could it be?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” He wanted something much more concrete than that. He wanted Hannah to give him an absolute denial that the robbery being anything more than a random robbery was out of the question.
“Who would want to target me through my store? There’s no one. No one who would want to hurt me. If it’s not random, maybe it’s Jeff or Vincent they were really interested in.”
“Do you think it could be?”
“I don’t think so. Not Jeff. And Vincent is just the son of a friend who needed a job. I don’t know much about him, but I can't imagine robbing my store would be a good way to hurt him if someone wanted to. Do you really think this could be more than just a random robbery?”
