Tanya checked the watch on her wrist. “It’s almost seven o’clock.”
Jillian closed her eyes for a brief second, whispered a silent prayer. She knew what Harley was capable of. He wasn’t a good man, he never had been. Now he’d probably been pushed over the edge by that stupid news story Sue Ellen had talked about. Jillian feared Harley had snapped. Now she’d be his retaliation against his public humiliation.
A single tear ran down Jillian’s cheek. Terror was rising inside of her. “Go, Tanya. Call the police. Hurry.”
Tanya turned around and ran toward the back of the store where the break room was. Jillian moved cautiously, heading toward the main entrance. Once she reached the end of the main aisle, she’d be in the front of the store, near the banks of cash registers. Close to store security.
I need to tell someone, she thought. No. Just get out of the store. Get out of the store and run.
Jillian hesitated as she reached a crossroads. There were aisles on each side of her. Her eyes darted quickly to her right, then to her left, searching for Harley’s face in the swarm of shoppers. Keep moving. He isn’t here.
Jillian struggled to hold back her tears. She begged God, asked him to get her out of the store alive. She made promises to him, bartered and negotiated. She thought about Chicago: the skyscrapers, the snow, the new life with Alex and Robby. She pictured herself walking out of the store and into the parking lot where Alex would be waiting for her with that adorable, dimpled smile of his.
Jillian walked past another aisle, focused on her escape. She could hear the electronic beeps of the cash registers, smell waves of the humid air outside as the automatic doors slid open and shut. Jillian didn’t take the time to stop and check if he was lurking around the corners. She was fearless, spurred on by her desire to live. She’d just passed a display of pink and white hula hoops, skirted around the cardboard set-up plunked down in the middle of the main aisle where customers couldn’t avoid it.
She felt Harley behind her.
His arm snaked around her neck, gripping her tight and squeezing the air out of her body. He pulled her back toward him and the fine hairs on his arm tickled her skin. She felt his belt buckle dig into the small of her back as they collided. He was dressed like he was going to work, late for class in a white Oxford and khaki slacks. The sleeves on his dress shirt were rolled up to the elbow.
“There you are,” he said, as if she were a child who’d been lost somewhere in the store.
“Harley, don’t,” she begged.
“Have you seen the news? It’s all over the place. On the Internet. My picture.” His words crawled into her right ear. Her chest tightened. They started to walk, fast. They were already nearing the front of the store. Customers were concerned—they could tell something was wrong. Jillian pleaded with the faces she passed, trying to ask them for help with her eyes. They stared back at her as she was whisked by. Harley was only a few inches taller than her. He wasn’t a big guy—it would be easy for someone to overtake him.
He isn’t as strong as he looks. Somebody, help me.
Harley was directly behind Jillian and she was his shield. His left hand was pressed flat against the middle of her spine, guiding and forcing her. The left side of his face brushed against her right ear. She felt the front of his solid chest bang against the back of her right shoulder blade with each frenzied step they took. In a strange sense, it reminded Jillian of the time they’d had sex, a million years ago when she was his adoring student and he was the married English teacher with a sexy permanent five o’clock shadow.
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” she told him. “Let go of me.”
“We’re leaving,” he insisted.
“No.” It was then she felt the tip of the rifle. Harley had it in his right hand, at his side. He lifted the gun, pointed it upward and across the front of her body at a diagonal. He jammed the gun so hard beneath Jillian’s chin she bit her tongue and blood began to flow from the left corner of her mouth.
Pandemonium broke out in the aisle. People began to scream, panic, run, as the reality of the situation kicked in.
Jillian and Harley reached the end of the aisle. It opened out to the front bay of the store. Jillian searched the entrance, praying.
Slivers of spit flew from his mouth when he spoke. “You ruined everything for me, you fucking bitch. My family. My career. My future.”
A chubby-faced, balding security guard approached them. “Sir, we don’t want any trouble here.”
“I’m sorry,” Jillian wheezed, feeling a thin line of blood swim down her chin.
Harley’s hand moved from Jillian’s spine and up to the back of her head. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked as hard as he could. Harley yelled the words, “You’re coming with me! Just like I said you would!”
“Okay,” she said, as hot tears splashed down the sides of her face. “I’ll go with you,” she tried to convince him. “I’ll go with you. Just don’t hurt anybody, Harley. Please.”
A chorus of words circled around Jillian, flying at her from different directions: “Oh my God, he has a gun” “That’s them! The teacher and the student!” “Someone needs to do something. She’s pregnant!”
Jillian closed her eyes. In her mind, she was back in the examining room, at the Department of Health. She could almost smell the wretched breath of the doctor, a mixture of garlic and onions and decay. “You’re eight weeks pregnant…do you know who the father is?” At the time, Jillian wanted to answer the question with, “His name is Harley LaMont…he’s the only man I’ve ever loved…except my father.”
“Why did you turn against me?” Harley demanded, ripping strands of hair out her head with a second, harder tug.
“I didn’t. I swear.” From the corner of her right eye, Jillian watched as the automatic doors of the entrance slid open. “No,” she choked. Alex walked into the store, with a warm smile shining on his beautiful, soft face. “Oh God,” Jillian whimpered at the sight of him.
Within seconds, Jillian saw the expression on Alex’s face immediately shift as he registered what was happening. He locked eyes with Jillian.
“Everybody stay back!” Harley shrieked to customers and her coworkers.
At the sight of Alex, Harley loosened the grip he had on Jillian’s hair. “Alex, you’re not supposed to be here!” he bellowed.
“Harley, let her go,” Alex insisted.
Jillian swallowed before she spoke. “Alex, where’s Robby?”
Alex was struggling to maintain his composure, his calm. “He’s in the car. Waiting.”
“Take my car and go,” she pleaded. “Turn around, Alex. Leave.”
“No.” He shook his head as fear filled his warm eyes. “I can’t do that.”
“Harley, listen to me,” she said, trying to hide the terror from rumbling in her voice. “Don’t do anything stupid, all right? This is about you and me.”
Jillian looked at Alex, and she knew he was scared. She also knew he was incredibly loyal. He would never leave her to die.
“You’re wrong, Jillian,” Harley said. “This isn’t just about you and me. This…is about everything.”
A thousand things happened within the sliver of a second. A woman emerged from the depths of the crowd, running toward the gun, calling out Jillian’s name. Robby’s face somehow appeared in the swamp of scared faces and he started crying. The security guard took a brave step forward, moving in on Harley.
In her belly, Jillian felt her baby kick the outer ridges of her soul. As Jillian started to scream, Harley aimed the gun, pulled the trigger, and fired.
Twice.
Alex
It took a few seconds for Alex to register what had happened, for the brutal reality to sink in.
Harley was dead, killed by his own bullet. The second shot.
Jillian had been hit by his first bullet. But she was still alive.
Just barely.
A surge of adrenaline soared through his body, moving him on
impulse, guiding him by sheer instinct. Alex forced his way through the crowd gathering around her. He shoved them out of his path, elbowing their sides. “Get back!” he shrieked. “Get the fuck away from her!”
He dropped to his knees, falling to the ground beside his best friend. He reached for her and saw the blood. It was pumping out of a hole in her shoulder. “Somebody help me!” Alex begged.
Jillian made a soft gurgling sound. “Alex,” she breathed. “Don’t let me die in this place.” Tears slid from the corners of her eyes and dripped to the ground smudged with shoeprints, mixing with the growing puddle of blood beneath her body.
Giselle appeared next to them, down on one knee, leaning over Jillian’s body. It was then Alex remembered seeing the school nurse moments before, what she’d done in the split second before the first bullet was fired. She’d broken through the crowd and dived in Jillian’s direction. But Giselle couldn’t move fast enough. No one could.
The security guard was on his cell phone, shouting instructions. “Get the ambulance here now!” he yelled to the 911 operator.
Sue Ellen rushed forward with pillows, ripping their plastic packaging off with her hands. She shoved them at Alex, shaking. He took them from her, gently guiding them beneath Jillian’s head. He turned to the security guard, panicked. “Where’s the ambulance?”
“They’re here,” he insisted. “They’re in the parking lot.”
“She’s bleeding all over the fucking place!” Alex shouted.
Giselle reached up and yanked a floral printed blouse from a hanger. She balled the shirt up in her hands and pressed it hard against Jillian’s wound. “Get these people out of here,” she instructed. She looked up at Sue Ellen. “These people don’t need to see this. Do something.”
Sue Ellen snapped into form. “Everybody get back!” The crowd of onlookers reluctantly obeyed, shifting in one large wave, retreating toward the cash registers. “Have some respect, people!”
“Alex?” the familiar voice said in the near distance.
Alex looked up and saw Robby standing next to Harley’s lifeless body. Tears were spilling down his cheeks. Alex’s eyes shifted to Jillian, and he watched as Robby’s heart broke right in front of him.
“No,” he pleaded through his sobs. “No.”
“Robby, I need you to be strong right now. You hear me?”
Robby nodded, wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. He rushed to Alex’s side, slipping his hand into Jillian’s. “I love you,” he whispered to her. And Alex knew it was the truth.
He knew Jillian believed Robby, too. She struggled to lift her head up to reach the side of his face, his ear. “I’m not getting out of here,” she said to him. Her voice was weak, breathy. Alex didn’t like the sound of it. She was losing the fight for her life—and he knew it. “Take care of Alex for me.”
Robby kissed her cheek softly. “Always,” he promised.
She lowered her head and offered Giselle a soft smile. “Thank you,” she said.
“Anything for you, angel,” Giselle replied, losing the struggle to hold her tears back.
Alex saw the flash of lights outside of the store. A swirling storm of pulsating white and blue and the urgent wail of the anxious sirens brought comfort to him.
The store was invaded within seconds. Men and women in uniforms with silver badges and gun holsters swarmed the place, ushering the crowd away from Harley and Jillian—forcing everyone far away from the scene of the crime.
The paramedics followed in next, rushing to get to Jillian, trying to save her.
Alex felt strong arms on his body, pulling him away from Jillian. He shouted in protest, struggling violently. “Let go of me,” he begged with everything he had left.
Jillian sensed his absence. She made a soft moaning sound, tilted her head back, pressing it deeper into the soft white pillow. She started to convulse. Blood bubbled out of her mouth, trickling down the sides of her face and chin.
“We’re losing her here!” Giselle screamed to anyone who would listen.
Jillian was surrounded by strangers intent on saving her life. Alex knew his best friend needed these people more than anyone else in the world.
He swallowed his rage and reached for Robby, pulling him into his arms, sobbing into the sleeve of Robby’s gray sweatshirt.
Seconds later, Alex felt Giselle’s hand on his back. He turned and met her eyes. “Go with her,” she urged. He stared at her blankly, confused. “The ambulance,” she continued, cutting through his cloud of grief. “Robby and I will meet you there…at the hospital.”
Alex nodded, absorbing the meaning of the woman’s words, drinking the small amount of hope he heard in them. The hospital? An ambulance? Maybe they’re going to save her. Maybe Jillian will be okay.
But as Alex scrambled into the back of the ambulance and clutched Jillian’s hand, he saw how pale she looked—like she was already a ghost—and he knew.
It’s only a matter of time.
“My baby,” she said, her words muffled by an oxygen mask.
Alex turned and looked for an answer from the uniformed woman in the ambulance with them. “The baby’s vitals are fine,” she reassured Alex.
Alex touched Jillian’s cheek softly with the back of his hand. “Did you hear that, Jilli?”
“My baby,” she repeated.
Alex held his best friend’s hand, unsure if he’d ever be able to let go. “She’s fine,” he told her. “Your baby is okay.”
Jillian squeezed Alex’s hand in response. He was surprised by her strength.
*
They were trying to make him leave the room, but Alex refused. He’d run alongside the gurney, from the ambulance, down the hospital corridor, and through doors that buzzed before swinging open.
He wouldn’t let go of Jillian’s hand. No one in the world could make him.
“I won’t leave her!” Alex told the nurse.
“Sir, you need to wait outside.”
“No.” He shook his head, tasting his own tears. “No. I won’t go.”
Something happened in the room, causing the attention to shift from Alex and back to Jillian. A machine she’d been connected to was flashing and beeping—emitting a serious warning of some kind.
A doctor rushed into the room, and for a moment Alex wondered if it was his mother he was seeing. The resemblance between her and the doctor was startling.
Jillian stirred, and her voice was panicked. “What’s happening to me?” she asked. “Alex?”
He looked at the doctor, standing on the opposite side of Jillian’s bed. Alex locked eyes with her and asked, “Is it the baby?”
The doctor nodded in silence before she leaned over Jillian and said in a gentle tone, “Jillian? I’m Dr. Petrosian.”
“My baby,” Jillian responded. “Please, lady…help my baby.”
“We need to operate, Jillian. We need your permission to perform a surgery to save your baby.”
Jillian nodded. “Yes…do whatever you have to.” Jillian turned her head slowly, her eyes searching for Alex. “Tell her, Alex,” she said.
A petite nurse appeared next to Dr. Petrosian, holding a clipboard and a pen. “Jillian,” the doctor continued, “I need you to answer a question for me.”
Jillian didn’t take her eyes off Alex. Something inside him knew not to break their stare, not to look away. They spoke volumes in only the slivers of seconds passing.
“Jillian, we need to know who the father of the child is.”
Alex’s eyes swelled with tears, mirroring the intense wave of emotion floating in Jillian’s eyes. Without a word, they knew it was good-bye.
“Jillian,” the doctor repeated, with more urgency in her voice. “Who is the father of your baby?”
Like best friends often do, Jillian and Alex spoke at the same time, in perfect unison.
“He is,” Jillian said without taking her eyes off him.
“I am,” Alex declared. His words were spoken with more pride than
he’d ever felt in his life.
“Very well,” Dr. Petrosian concluded. “Sir, we have some paperwork we need for you to sign.”
Alex’s fingertips trembled as he reached for Jillian’s cheek, brushing her tears away, allowing her sorrow to be absorbed into his own skin.
“Sir,” the doctor prompted.
Alex nodded, still locking eyes with Jillian. “Haskanum em,” he said, more to his best friend than to the doctor.
He could feel the doctor’s smile, lighting up the room and covering his skin with warmth and kindness. “I see,” she said. She continued in Armenian, filling the space around them with the native tongue of Alex’s mother, his ancestors. His history. The doctor assumed he spoke the language, so he continued to smile and nod.
When they separated Alex from Jillian and their hands drifted apart, Alex sensed his mother’s presence. He felt her standing next to him, watching as Jillian was rolled away and taken to an operating room.
He closed his eyes, imagining her there with him. Her soft hands. Her gentle waves of laughter. Her sad, beautiful gaze. The always-present loneliness in her warm voice.
“Mom,” Alex said to the empty hospital room. “Take care of her for me.”
Alex felt his heart break an hour later when he remembered he’d slipped Jillian’s wishes into his front pocket earlier in the day in her bedroom. He fished out the box with the Chinese writing on it, lifted the lid, and reached inside for a piece of paper. He unfolded it and stared down at Jillian’s words, scrawled against white. He blinked back hot tears as he discovered what mattered most to his best friend.
I don’t want my baby to grow up in Georgia. I never want her to feel unloved.
Dr. Petrosian came to them in the waiting room then, found them sitting in plastic chairs, thumbing mindlessly through year-old issues of magazines, hoping.
Alex stood and shoved the wish box back into his pocket. He breathed in deep. He clutched Robby’s hand tightly in his. He waited. He tasted hope. But it melted down the back of his throat and burned with bitterness.
Swimming to Chicago Page 15
