"Do you remember where you are?" He tries to sit up, wincing. "Lay still, baby. You're in the hospital. Do you remember?"
"Can I get some water?" Ian asks.
"I'm going to sit your bed up a little bit so you can drink easier." I take the bed controller and slowly adjust the bed.
I put the straw in his mouth from the glass of ice water the nurse refilled during one of her visits to the room. He drinks it all. He looks up at me, smiling. "Good morning, love," he says, with his panty-dropping smile. I kiss him.
"Baby, there is a detective here that wants to ask us some questions. Are you okay with that?"
"Yes."
The detective scoots the chair closer to the bed, and sticks his hand out to introduce himself to Ian. "I'm Detective James. Ian, I would like to ask you both a couple questions if you don't mind."
"No, that will be fine," Ian says.
The detective pulls out his notebook and he starts to write. He looks at me and asks me what I remember of last night. I start at the beginning of my story; my mom's death, and what Hank started and continued to do to me. I watch the detectives reaction as I tell him what happened.
Ian looks at me with a curious look on his face. "I never asked you about Hank. Where is he? Did the police get him?" Ian asks, looking at me then to the detective.
"He was DOA and is now lying in the morgue," the detective states, matter-of-factly. Ian gasps and his eyes flash to me. Tears fill his eyes. "You mean I killed him? I killed your father?" he says solemnly, as a tear runs down his cheek. "Oh God, Parker! I am so sorry."
I stand, placing my hands on Ian's face, looking him in the eyes. "Ian, do you know how I felt when I found out that Hank was dead? I got the relief of knowing that the bastard would never touch me again, but you know what he left me? He left me a lifetime of goddamn fucking nightmares."
I lookup at the detective. "Can you give us just a couple minutes, please?" I ask softly.
"Of course," the detective replies as he stands and walks out the door.
I crawl up next to Ian, wrapping him in my arms as he sobs into my chest. "Ian, it wasn't your fault. Hank is the one that had the gun; you were both struggling for it. He would have killed you if he had the chance. Hell, he almost did kill you. You were protecting me," I whisper, as I run my fingers through his hair and rub his back with the other hand. "I am so sorry I put you in this kind of situation." I am holding Ian's head to my chest, kissing it as I continue to run one of my hands through his silky curls and try to soothe him.
"Parker, I am so sorry. After what I had said I had wanted to do to him last night and then this..."
"Ian, I know you didn't mean what you said earlier. You were just angry at what he had done to me. I love you, Ian. You risked your life to save me. I will always be eternally grateful for your sacrifice. We will work through this together." I lift his face up to look into his eyes. "I love you, Ian, and if you still want me in your life, we will work everything out together; no more running." I pull him to my lips, gently kissing him.
"I love you too, Parker. And, yes, I would die for you. I'd give everything I have for you; to make sure you are always safe. We will get through this together, and this will strengthen our bond," he states boldly as he kisses me again.
"I better get the detective back in here so we can finish." I climb out of the bed to walk to the door.
The detective comes back into the room, taking his seat again. He looks to Ian and asks what he remembers.
Ian closes his eyes as if he is trying to remember everything from the night before. He then opens them and looks at the detective, telling him his recollection if the incident. I sit and watch Ian tell his memories of the night before, I watch his face as he recall the fight and getting shot and how he risked his life to save me from Hank
"Thank you, Mr. Blake. Is that everything you can remember? he asked.
"Yes, I think that's all of it," Ian says.
"Miss Dane, may I ask you a personal question?" the detective asks, looking from Ian to me.
"Yes, of course," I reply.
"Why didn't you ever notify anyone about the abuse your adoptive-father had been inflicting on you?" He asks, as he turns the page over on his notepad.
I look at Ian and then look down at my fingers that were knotted in my lap. "I had tried to tell a couple people, but they wouldn't listen. Hank had a good reputation in the neighborhood. There was no way that Hank would ever do something like that, so I thought maybe this is what fathers do to their daughters. I was a little girl when it started, and I was taught to obey my parents, so who was I to disobey? I always strived to please them, and that didn't change when my mother died. As far as I'm concerned that part of my life died when I moved out. I had to get past that part of my life. I couldn't go back and change what had already happened. I could only go forward."
"Miss Dane, your adoptive-father... I mean, Hank is at the morgue. They will want to know how you would like to dispose of the body," Detective James says. He looks at me with compassion and hands me his card .
"Thank you, detective. I will be in touch with them in the next day or so." He stands, shaking my hand and pats Ian on the shoulder before turning to leave the room. He stops at the door and turns to me. "Miss Dane... Parker... you might want to think about seeing an abuse counselor," the detective says.
"Thank you."
I sit back down and start to think of all the things I will have to take care of now that Hank is dead.
I try not to think about the disposal of the Scholls' property and everything in it, not to mention Hank's funeral. That's for another time. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and exhale.
"You okay baby girl?" Ian asks. His face is full of concern.
"Yes, but there is a lot of things I am going to have to do in the next week or so. I don't know if I will be up for it. Maybe when I get a little more rest I will have a clear head to figure out what I need to do." I search Ian's face.
"You know I am always here for you if you need any help. Okay?"
"Yes, I do, but you need to heal. Thank you though."
There is a knock at the door and Dr. Harris strides in. "Hi, Ian, I'm Dr. Harris. How are you feeling today? You probably don't remember me, but I am the doctor that attended to you last night when you came in."
"I'm doing okay, a little sore and tired, but other than that I can't complain," Ian says.
"Let's get a look at your wound." Dr. Harris reminds me of a hippy, he has curly reddish brown shoulder length hair with a beard and mustache, he is dressed in green slacks and a white shirt with a matching green tie with a chevron design on it. He is very nice and has a very good bedside manner. Dr. Harris takes the bandage off Ian's shoulder both front and back. "It looks good. You might be sore for a few days, but it should heal well.
You're a lucky man. If that bullet was a hair lower you wouldn't be here today, and if someone hadn't put pressure on your wounds you would have bled out before you got here." The Doctor looked at me. "Did Parker tell you what she did for you last night? Ian shook his head. "Well, this young lady saved your life. She fought with the police and paramedics to stay with you applying pressure on your wounds to stop the bleeding," the doctor says, looking to me.
The paramedics were several minutes out, that's a lot of time for blood to pour out of not one, but two wounds." He says, "I just wanted to let you know that what she did saved your life. I didn't think she would say anything to you."
"Thank you," I say to the doctor. I was feeling a little self conscience about the attention he was giving me.
Dr. Harris turns his attention back to Ian. "You might have to go through, physical therapy for a while though depending on how much range of motion you have lost. I will have a physical therapist give you a call to set something up. Other than that, I will get your discharge papers started and we'll get you out of here. Do you have any questions?"
"No, I think I’m good. Thank you, Dr. Harris. I appreciate all yo
ur help," Ian says, sticking out his hand for the doctor to shake.
Ian's parents drop me off at my apartment to pick up his Jeep and some clothes since I will be staying at the condo for a week or so. I walk up the stairs of the apartment, my stomach starts to roll. The blood has been cleaned off the floor but I see the bullet hole in the wall. I open my apartment door and I break out into a cold sweat as my stomach rolls again and my mouth starts to water. I run to the bathroom throwing the seat up as I lose what little I had in it. I kneel there for a little while as I am taken over with dry heaves. Flushing the toilet I rinse my mouth and brush my teeth and wiping the smeared mascara out from under my eyes. I look into the mirror, I look about as tired as I feel. Walking into the main room, I still smell the stench from Hank. I pull the Febreze from under the kitchen cabinet and spray the sofa and the rug. After returning the Febreze to the cabinet, I grab my bag I brought home from Ian's the night before, tossing it in the Jeep before driving to the condo. When I get back to the condo, Ian's parents have him settled in.
Alexis is fixing something for dinner so I don't have to cook. "I didn't mean to take over, but I figured you were pretty tired and wouldn't want to cook. I thought I would whip something up, so you don't have to worry about it," Alexis cheerfully says. I hope I look as good as Alexis does when I am her age. She is so well put together, elegant.
"That is very thoughtful, but it isn't like you haven't had a stressful twenty-four hours too. It smells wonderful. Lasagna? Let me help. What would you like me to do?" I offer.
"Yes, it is. Do you like Italian food?"
"Yes, I love it. I cooked a lot at home and learned to make all different types of food."
"Do you mind making a salad?"
"Not at all. Then I will get some bread for garlic toast."
"Sounds great. I love working as a team," Alexis says, smiling lovingly.
"Thank you, Alexis, for welcoming me with open arms so freely without even knowing me," I say, as I hug her shoulders.
"Honey, I have never seen Ian so happy before, which means he is in love with you. I look forward to getting to know you better."
Chapter 21
Welcome Home
Parker
The next morning I wake to Ian running his hand up and down my arm, in deep thought. I open my eyes watching him. "Are you okay?" I ask. "You look like you are million miles away."
Looking into my eyes, he says, "Parker I love you so much; I can't imagine my life without you. I came so close to losing you..."
"I love you too, Ian. I'm not going anywhere." I turn on my side, running my fingers down his chest. "In the hospital you said you heard me talking and praying for you, how did you know I was doing that? You were unconscious."
"I was standing behind you. I saw the look on your face, and the sound of your scared voice. When you touched me, I felt your warmth." He looked at me as he pushed a strand of hair behind my ear.
"That means you were on the edge of death..." My hand shoots over my mouth as I gasp. Tears stream down my face as the realization hits me at how close I was to losing him. "Oh God, Ian!"
"I'm here and I am okay, thanks to you," he says, as he brushes the tears from my face. I continue to weep as he pulls me closer. "Shh. I'm right here. Shh. I love you and I'm not going anywhere." We snuggle back down in bed falling asleep again.
Later I crawl out of bed, putting on one of Ian's dress shirts and walk out to the kitchen after I finished in the bathroom. I enter the kitchen and begin gathering items to make breakfast. I place the food on a tray and walk it into the bedroom, setting it on the nightstand.
"Good morning, love!" I say, as I kiss Ian.
"Good morning to you," Ian says, sleepily.
"Did you sleep well?"
"I don't think I have ever slept so well before. I guess I needed it."
I help Ian sit up by stuffing pillows behind his back to make him comfortable. "Here is your coffee." I hand it to him. I place the tray on his lap so he can eat.
"Thank you, this looks wonderful!"
I sit on the bed opening the local newspaper. As I read through it, turning from page to page, there's a picture that stops me; it's in the entertainment section. To my surprise there are a few pictures of the book signing; one with Mr. Blake signing a book, and another one with Mr. Blake talking to a fan as he is handing her a signed book. The last one is of Ian's family with his arm around me. I am really surprised. "There is an article on your dad in the paper today. It's written well. That doesn't surprise you?"
"No, it happens all the time now. Whenever he has a new book out and they do a book signing his publicist always makes sure something is written about it."
"It's funny that I basically graduated from school, and I don't think I have one picture of me in my yearbook. Now here I am in the local newspaper within a month and a half out of school. I just think it's ironic." Luckily, there isn't anything about the shooting in the paper.
After breakfast, I help Ian get ready for the day. We sit outside on the balcony. "This is so nice; just relaxing all day," I say. We sit outside for a while just talking about, well, nothing really. We just talked, and watch the boats, drinking ice water with lemon. We end up on the sofa cuddling most of the day while talking and watching movies.
I had called Karen, telling her I needed a week off; that I had a family emergency and need to take care of it. Karen had told me that a co-worker had taken a phone call from someone asking about me. She hadn’t given the person on the phone any information about me but wanted me to know, because he wouldn't give her any of his information. She thought it might have something to do with the article in the paper on Mr. Blake’s book signing. But I do let her know that someone did give my personal information out to someone on the phone. I don't want to get anyone in trouble, but in this situation, it had turned out badly.
"Are you up for a trip to the county?" I ask Ian. "I need to look for the legal papers that Hank had and make sure the house is locked up and secure?"
"Anything to get me out of the house. I'm going stir crazy," Ian says.
I don't know if he has ever laid around for any length of time before, at least not since I have known him.
We drive to the house; I still have my key, not that we ever locked the house. But now, with the news of Hank's death, I don't want anyone to break in.
"This is a beautiful area. You grew up here?" Ian asks.
"Yes, my parents bought the land and they built the home. I thought when I was younger that I would live out her too. But that all changed."
As we pull into the driveway and park the Jeep, my stomach starts to turn. I feel the blood leave my face. I start to hyperventilate. I quickly put the Jeep into park, opening my door hurriedly. I run to the side of the driveway, expelling the contents of the morning and I start to cry. All the memories come rushing back to me. Ian swiftly comes to my side, pulling my hair out of the way as I heave. He softly rubs my back, soothing me. He twirls my hair and places it under my shirt as he walks over to the Jeep. When he comes back, he has a bottle of water, a small package of handi-wipes, and a little blue bottle of something I don't recognize. He takes my hair again, holding it back.
"Here, rinse with this." He hands me the water. Taking the water, I rinse out my mouth. He then hands me a small blue bottle; it's mouthwash. Removing the lid and placing the bottle on my lips, I tilt it back and fill my mouth with the minty burning liquid. Swishing it about for a while before spitting it out in the bark dust. He pulls a couple handi-wipes out of the package, handing them to me. I take them and begin wiping my mouth. Ian lets go of my hair and stands up holding out his hand to help me up. In his hand is a handkerchief for me to wipe the tears that had flowed down my face. As I stand, he takes me in his arm while stroking my back until my crying subsides.
I take in a deep breath, regaining my resolve. Slowly I move out of Ian's arm, squaring my shoulders, knowing it is time for me to be strong. I stand on my tippy toes, reaching up to kis
s Ian. "Thank you."
"This place is nice. How much land do you have?" He asks curiously.
"We have three and a half acres. My parents had built the house when I was a little girl."
"Did you have any animals?"
"We always had a couple cows; one for beef one for milk. I had a horse, and at one point, Hank had rabbits and pigs. Of course, we also had chickens. But when mom died, Hank stopped caring and got rid of everything," I say.
"I'll show you around and tell you everything I know," I say. "Let me know if you get too tired; we can always do this another day."
"Okay, this way I can take some pictures and show my guys what you have and see what we can get for it."
I take Ian in the house to show him the house and its furnishings. He had told me he knew a lot of people that would be interested in doing an estate sale to clean out the house. "Mom always purchased well made furniture. She cared for her furniture meticulously so we should be able to sell it or even consign it, at this point I really don't care."
Ian says he will help me with the organization of and the disposal of everything. That is a big load off my shoulders.
While we are upstairs in the master bedroom, I look for the safe. "I found it!" I take the safe box, putting it at the top of the stairs. I will take it out to the car when we are done up here. I set my mother's jewelry box on top of the safe. "Hank also had a gun safe." It is in this bedroom. I tell Ian this, so he can figure out how to sell them. I know Hank had collected a lot of antique guns and rifles and I wasn't sure if there were any laws about selling them, so I again left it to Ian to sell them along with everything else I am letting him take care of. I look under the master bed and find a shotgun that was always there. I take it and put it in the gun safe, giving the combination to Ian.
We have been at the property for a couple hours and I can tell Ian is getting tired so we pack everything we needed and drive back to his condo. On the way back, Ian called the property management company that was managing my apartment threatening them with a lawsuit for not fixing the security lock in a timely manner. He informs them that because of their negligence someone was killed in an apartment and that he had been shot. I think he will own the apartment building by the time he’s done with it.
Stolen Innocence Page 15
