Chapter Eleven

Johnny

I’ve been excited all day. I don’t think anyone has done anything like this for Jill before. I love seeing the look on her face when something good happens and I know I’ll be seeing that look a lot tonight as I have a big night planned for us.

Oddly, as I’m turning into my driveway I see Denton and Cici running full speed from their house to mine. Both have guns in their hands, up and in front of them like actors in a cop show. Dread fills my gut and I slam the truck into park and jump out rounding the vehicle at a dead sprint.

“What the fuck?” I yell.

Denton pauses. Cici keeps running.

“We heard screaming and were already coming out the door when a gunshot sounded. Call 911!” He yells over to me.

Cici is on the porch peering sideways through my front door. I dial 911 as I hustle toward her, and before I can hit send on my phone, Cici is firing through the glass paned portion of my door. Two shots total, I think. My mind is reeling, and all logical thought is gone in an instant. I drop my phone and run. I hear an odd noise and a thump. I don’t stop. I grab the knob only to realize it’s still locked. “Shit!” I shout. Most of the door panes are busted, and jagged glass surrounds them. My keys are still in the car, and I can see two women lying on the floor motionless.

“Call 911!” I scream. “Oh my God, call 911! Jill! Baby, I’m here. Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

I slice my hands on broken panels of jagged glass as I get the door open and rush through. It’s like a scene out of a horror movie. The metallic smell of blood permeates the air, and Jill is face down on the floor. There’s a trail of blood leading to her lifeless body like she’s been dragged several feet from the door. Mindy is on her back wide-eyed and motionless. One shot got her in the neck leaving a bloody raw mess and the other in her chest. I register that she’s wearing the dress I bought for Jill today, but I’m too freaked out to care.

I roll Jill over as gingerly as possible. The front of her shirt is sopping wet with blood, and I can’t tell where all of it is coming from. Her face and hair are matted with it, and it’s everywhere. My panic rises another notch when it becomes obvious she isn’t breathing, and if she is, it’s intermittent. I can hear Denton on the phone talking to the 911 operator. Cici has found a knife from the kitchen and is trying to cut the rope off Jill’s hands and feet.

She’s crying and chanting, “Come on, Jill. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.”

I’m not sure if chest compressions are a good idea with all the blood in that area, so I just do mouth to mouth. I hope I’m doing the right thing because I’m terrified, and all kinds of crazy things are rushing through my mind.

I hear the ambulance getting closer, and the next thing I know a guy in a uniform is pushing me out of the way and asking questions that Cici and I are both trying to answer. The police come through the door a minute later and start asking questions. I’m freaking out about Jill and trying to follow the gurney. Cici and Denton are doing their best to answer all of the cop’s questions. I don’t even think or ask permission, I just jump into the ambulance with the paramedics as we head for the hospital.

When we arrive, Jill is rushed through the doors into the bowels of the ER and a tall, gangly, middle-aged receptionist approaches me. “Sir, I have some paperwork for you to fill out. The nurses may have questions, too. Can I call someone to be with you?”

I blink repeatedly trying to understand what she’s just said to me.

“Sir? Can I call someone for you?”

“Yeah, I need my brother. My cell phone is in my truck at home. I don’t know the number.”

A helpless feeling washes though me, and I drop into the nearest chair, I’m shaking as the adrenaline leaves my body.

“Sir, give me his name and an address, if you have it. I’ll find him.”

The shakes seem to be getting worse so I wrap my arms around my middle and say, “Steve Browning. Steve and Mary. They live on Maple Way in Batavia. I don’t know the exact address.”

“Okay, I’ll find them. Does your wife have any allergies?”

“My girlfriend. Jillian Pierce. No, I don’t think so.”

“Does she have any other family?”

“No, just my family.”

“Hold tight. I’ll find your brother. You need to go wash up.”

My eyes shift to my hands and arms, and I’m horrified to realize they are covered in Jill’s blood where I tried to hold her. Tears spill from my eyes as it dawns on me that she probably won’t make it out of here alive. I’m not even sure she was alive when she came in. I choke back a sob. If I start, I won’t stop. I just need my brother and my dad. I can’t go through this without them.

I stumble to the bathroom and do my best to wash off in the sink. Rivers of red-pink-tinged water swirl around in the sink, and I brace my hands on the sides to keep from dropping to the floor. Reality is flooding in, and I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe any of this has happened.

Somehow, I end up back in the waiting room and what seems like forever goes by before I see Steve rush in through the automatic doors followed closely by my dad, my sister, and Bobby. Tara waddle-runs around everyone to get to me and throws her arms around me, squishing my middle with her pregnant belly. She’s crying hard, and I can’t understand what she’s saying. Bobby peels her off me and tries to calm her down. Steve and my dad surround me in a weird group hug. That is my undoing. I lose it as my body quakes with sobs. I’m certain I’ve never cried this hard before. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.

“What’s going on, Johnny?” Steve asks concerned.

“I don’t know. They haven’t told me anything yet.”

“Denton called Dad from your phone and told him to get here ASAP. About the same time, I was getting a call from a woman named Vera here at the hospital telling me to come quickly. We didn’t get any details. Are you okay?”

“No. I’m not okay. Mindy broke into the house before I got home and beat Jill pretty badly and then shot her. She wasn’t breathing when I found her. Cici killed Mindy. Shot her right in the throat and the chest. I don’t know how Mindy got into the house. I’m so glad Mariah wasn’t with her. Oh God, what if Jill’s dead? Oh God. I can’t do this.”

My father’s stern voice breaks through the hysteria, “Son, you need to settle down. Jill will be okay. We’re here for you, and we’re going to help you get through this, but you have to hold it together.”

His strong hands clench my shoulders, and he shakes me a little trying to make his point. I fall apart again. My brother puts his arms around me and hugs me like he did when we were little and we found out our grandpa had died. Normally this kind of emotion would embarrass me, but I don’t give a shit. The only thing I care about is dying or dead somewhere in this hospital. After I calm down, Steve coaxes me outside for a little bit of fresh air with the promise from my dad that they will grab me if they hear anything at all.

Hours later, we’re alternating between sitting and pacing. Tara refuses to leave even after we all begged her to go home and rest. I feel like a zombie—lifeless and cold. I’m ready for answers, and I’m afraid if I don’t get them soon, I’ll go postal on the receptionist.

Muffled voices, crying children, and groans of pain can be heard in the waiting room all around us. Every time I take a breath in through my nose, I’m taken back to the night that my brother died. It’s that clinical smell, like disinfectant and metal that hangs in the air at all hospitals. My chest feels like it’s in a vice as I wait impatiently to hear from the doctor and fight memories of the last time I saw Matt.

The thought of Jill finding Mindy in our house makes me sick to my stomach. I can’t imagine what was going through Jill’s head when she realized what was happening. I knew Mindy was unhinged; I just didn’t realize how far she’d go to get me back. When I tried to get a restraining order, the police said I had to have proof that I was being stalked.

We filed a complaint after she showed up at the office on Monday, but that wasn’t enough for the restraining order. I knew she was stalking us, but she was sneaky about it. Now I may have lost the love of my life because of that crazy bitch. I never should have gone to that bar and picked her up that night. I should’ve just manned up and fought for Jill in the first place, instead of trying to distract myself. I can’t help but feel this is all my fault.

Several hours later, Cici and Denton blaze into the ER with wild eyes, holding hands. As soon as they spot me, Cici drops Denton’s hand, and she’s in my arms.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner. I thought I heard a scream but wasn’t sure until I heard it again. Denny and I grabbed our guns out of the dresser drawers and were out of there. I’m so sorry. How is she?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Mindy’s car wasn’t parked at the house. I would’ve walked in on that crazy situation not knowing anything was wrong if it weren’t for you two. Thank you. I don’t know how she is. They haven’t come out to find us yet, but I don’t think she was breathing at the house. I couldn’t tell if she had a pulse or not. I was too busy panicking.”

She backs up, and Denton comes in for a handshake half-hug that’s typical for us guys. He’s quiet, but concern lingers in his eyes.

He slaps my back twice and says, “Anything you need, man. If we can do it, we will.”

“I know, Denton. You two are good friends. I’ll let you know. What did the police say? I thought for sure you’d be there all night.”

“Well, we aren’t out of the woods yet. Someone will be coming by to ask you questions here soon. Internal affairs is already involved, so it will be a little dicey, but it helped that Mindy’s car was found around the corner, parked at that empty lot, and that she doesn’t have a permit to carry a gun. They found the report you filed earlier this week, and the officer that was questioning us let it slip that there was also a prior stalking charge against her a couple of years ago. I think it will be fine. Cici’s not worried about it. Even if it’s not okay, we wouldn’t do anything different than we did.”

The hard plastic chair under my ass is causing my back to hurt, so I twist my torso in the opposite direction of my legs hoping to crack my back. When that doesn’t do the trick, I stand and walk to the sliding glass doors and step outside. The night is cool, but humid, and a storm is blowing in on the breeze. I pace back and forth for a while until Tara finally comes outside and grabs my hand. She holds it tight and stands at my side.

Her voice is soft as she says, “I really do like her. I think she’s perfect for you. It’s going to be okay. It has to be.”

“Thanks, Tara. I love her, you know, like I’ve never loved anyone before. I want to marry her and raise Mariah as mine. I’ll tell her the truth, that Matt was her real father once she’s old enough, but I want to be her daddy. I want more kids, too. I want little league practice and dance classes and snotty noses and parent teacher conferences. I want it all, but I only want it with Jill. What if she’s not okay?”

Releasing my hand, she nuzzles into my side and wraps her arms around my waist the best that she can. She doesn’t say a word.

“It was bad. There was blood everywhere, and I don’t think she had a pulse. I did mouth to mouth, but I was afraid I’d make it worse if I did chest compressions. I don’t think I can live without her. I never thought I’d love anyone like this.”

“She loves you, too, big brother. I’m glad you found that out. She’ll come back to you.”

Around three in the morning, a doctor strolls through the double doors looking disheveled.

“Family of Jillian Pierce?” he calls out.

We all stand and follow him to a less crowded area where he explains her injuries to us. “She’s alive and the prognosis is positive, but we will know more in the next twenty-four hours.”

There’s an audible sigh of relief amongst our group, and I thank the doctor before he disappears down the hallway.

They are only going to let Dad and me in to see her within the hour, the doctor said. She’s not conscious, and they don’t want any disturbances in ICU at this time of night. The doctor explained that they are strict about visiting hours. Denton takes Cici home, and my family waits with me for the nurse to escort us to her room.

When the nurse arrives, I send Bobby and Tara home and ask Steve to wait for us in the visitor’s area. I need him right now. Just having him here helps.

As soon as we enter the room and my eyes fall on her placid form, my heart cracks, and I practically crumble. My dad squeezes my shoulder and pushes me forward, so I get closer. The lighting in the room is dim, and she’s covered up to her chest by a hospital blanket. The rhythmic buzz of the respirator and the constant beep of the heart monitor keep me alert. Her face is black and blue, and a jagged row of stitches runs from midway up her forehead to somewhere in her hairline. The rest of her hair is still matted with blood, and both of her eyes are rimmed with dark black and blue coloring. Angry red scratches glisten with ointment across her cheekbone and down her neck. I move the blanket enough to find her tiny hand and place my much larger one over the top of it, careful not to touch the angry red welts left behind from the rope that bound her hands. I bow my head and pray fervently for the first time in years.

After we’ve seen her, my dad drives home, and Steve takes me to his house. We aren’t sure how long my house will be off limits since it’s a crime scene. Besides I need to see Mariah. Her pack ‘n’ play crib is set up in the guest room, so I tip toe into the room and remove my shirt and shoes. I lean over the top and peer into the crib. She’s flat on her stomach with her jammie-clad limbs splayed out like a starfish. Her sweet brown ringlets fan out around her head and over her chubby cheek. She’s peaceful. I smooth the hair on her face away with delicate strokes and lean in to kiss her forehead. Then I lay down and fall asleep watching her back rise and fall with each breath, so thankful that she’s not old enough to know any of this is going on and will never remember it later in life.

A couple of hours later, I’m awakened by the squawking of a happy baby by my ear. I lift one eyelid and scan the room. The second follows suit, and I see Mariah standing in the crib holding the top bar. She’s smashing her face into the mesh side and yelling baby words into the air. I sit up and smile at her. She thrusts her arms in the air, falls back on her bottom, and yells “Daddadadada!”

I know she has no idea what that means. We never say daddy in conjunction with anyone, but the thought of her calling me that one day causes a grin to spread across my face as I lean forward to pull her to my chest for a cuddle. I raspberry her neck and let her pull my goatee like always. It’s almost my favorite part of every day when we do this. I muddle my way to the kitchen where Mary stands cooking eggs and bacon. She eyeballs me from head to toe and gives me a sad smile.

“Go get in the shower. You have to clean up a little.”

I look down to find dried blood still on parts of my arms and some on my chest and stomach.

Mary holds her hands out for Mariah and says, “Pass her here. I’ll finish breakfast and change her diaper. Once you’re clean, you need to come eat. Steve called the hospital and pretended to be you to find out how things are going this morning. You have an hour and a half before they’ll let you in to see her again. She’s stable. Not out of the woods, but stable is good.

“Your dad is going to keep Mariah for a little while so that Judy and I can come up to the hospital during visiting hours today. Your mom wore your dad out last night because she got left at home. Your dad says she’s a mess and needs to see Jill for herself.”

I nod my head because that sounds about right. During Mom’s surgery, recovery, and treatment, she and Jill have gotten really close. I can’t imagine how she feels right now.

****

Jill is in ICU for three long days before being moved to a different floor. It’s been five days since the shooting, and it looks like she will make a full recovery. She’ll have several scars, but at least she has her life. We’re hoping to take her home in a day or two. Cici and Denton were cleared by internal affairs this morning, and we are all relieved. I wave at the nurses seated at the nurses’ station as I make my way to Jill’s room. When I stride through the door, I walk straight to her and kiss her lips.

“Hi, honey.” I flash her a giddy smile and her right eyebrow raises in question. “Feeling okay? Did you sleep okay?”

“Yes, and yes.” Her hair is a little wild from lack of brushing and styling, but Tara has her hairdresser coming in to tame it for Jill today. Before she has a chance to protest or start asking questions, I sit on the edge of the bed facing her. She raises the head of her bed a little more, and I lean in to kiss the lips I love so much one more time.

“I bought something for you this morning.”

“You did? Why? I don’t need anything.”

“I beg to differ. This is not how I planned for this to go, but I refuse to wait another single second.”

I remove the small velvet box from my pocket and kneel next to the bed. Her eyes grow huge. It’s the expression she gets every time she’s about to panic, but I’m not worried this time.

“Jillian, the best day of my life was the day I met you and Mariah. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and the sweetest, too. You’re strong, kind, smart, and capable. I’ve never been more scared of losing anything in my life than I was when you were lying on that floor. I love you now, and I’ll love you forever. I just want you to say yes to being my wife. I know how you operate now. You go speechless, your eyes get big like those lemur things in Madagascar, and your head spins. I know you need time to process these things, and I’ll give it to you. I won’t leave this room, though, until you agree to be my wife. It’s inevitable. If it’s today, next week, next month, or next year, it doesn’t matter. It’s going to happen, and you know it. So let me love you. Let me adopt Mariah. Let me be your husband, so I never again have to say the name Jillian Pierce. Marry me?”

I pry the little black box open with my bulky fingers, and the stone within sparkles perfectly. In that moment, I’m so thankful I had the foresight to take my sister to help pick it out. Without a word, Jill takes the ring out of the box and studies it. Her eyes lift to mine.

“This is one time I don’t need to think about it. I love you, Johnny, and I want to be a Browning. More specifically I want to be your Browning. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

I jar her a little too hard when I dive for her lips, ready to seal the deal and she cries out.

“I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m better than okay. I’m getting married. But I might have to kill you for asking me when I look like this. I’m disgusting.” She huffs as she pats her hair self-consciously.

“No, you’re beautiful. Now let me put my ring on your finger. I don’t want any of these doctors running around here getting any ideas about asking you out.

“Dad is going to bring Mariah up to see you for a few minutes later today after you get your hair done. She’s been screeching ‘Mamma’ while dragging herself from room to room at their house looking for you.”

She sighs. “God, I miss my baby.”

“I know you do, honey. She’ll be here in a little while. Speaking of which, I’d better call everyone to tell them you said yes.”

A few hours later my dad, Mariah, and I are visiting Jill. Keeping a toddler busy in a room full of wires, tubes, and buttons is no easy feat. Dad takes her for a walk while we talk a little longer. When the nurse comes in to help her to the bathroom, I wander off to find them. After fifteen or twenty minutes, we all return to find two very stern, irritated-looking people standing on the other side of the bed. The woman favors Jill, and my spine stiffens at the recognition. These must be her parents.

“What are you doing here?” I grind out, minus a smile.

Jill’s head turns toward me, and I can tell she’s been crying.

The man speaks, “I’m here to see my daughter.”

“Why? Didn’t you disown her and ‘Satan’s child’ when she was in the hospital after the car accident?”

The man stutters and stumbles over his words. “We saw her name on the news. She is our daughter.”

I walk over and stand at her bedside and ask, “Why are you crying, honey?”

She shifts sad green eyes from the blanket bunched up in her hands to mine. She shakes her head and says, “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Her eyes flick to her parents and back to me.

“What did you say to her this time?” My voice is raised, and I’m having a hard time containing my irritation.

“Nothing she doesn’t deserve,” her mother haughtily answers.

“So you told her you love her and she’s a wonderful person and you’re so glad she’s alive?” The sarcasm in my voice is thick like molasses.

“Well, no. She’s living in sin. As long as she keeps living her life this way she’ll keep ending up in a hospital bed or maybe even dead, roasting in the pits of hell.”

“Wow. You could have stayed home and saved that speech for someone who believes it and who cares what you have to say. You will never speak to my fiancée with anything but love and care. If you can’t do that, then you won’t see her. She is beautiful, kind, and competent. Nothing you say to her can change that, and I won’t let you hurt her in the process.”

“Young man, she is an ungodly woman. We raised her better than her jezebel ways. You’re leading her farther down the path of sin and estrangement from Christ,” her stern-faced father aims to remind me.

From behind me my dad booms, “I don’t know who you think you are, but their spiritual life is none of your business. Your judgment is not wanted or necessary. Now, unless you’re here to wish her well or show some love to my granddaughter, then I expect you to get out.”

“You have no right to tell us that,” her father spits back, eyes bulging, face red.

My dad hoists Mariah into his arms and Mrs. Pierce’s face goes white as a sheet; she must not have seen her when Dad was talking.

“I have every right in this world to protect my family. Jill is a member of my family, and I won’t let you hurt her anymore. It’s about time someone stood up to you. I may be old, but I can still kick your wrinkled old ass back to Indiana if you test my patience.”

Mariah leans forward and nosedives for Jill. I grab her before she lands on Jill’s chest. Mrs. Pierce’s eyes follow her every movement.

“Is this her?” she asks in a whisper.

I don’t even give Jill a chance to answer.

“This is our daughter, Mariah.”

“Your child? I thought her father was dead,” her dad questions.

“Her biological father is dead, yes, but she is my daughter. I’m adopting her. I’ve been helping to raise her.”

By the pinched expression on Jill’s dad’s face, I think he’s about to blow a gasket. Jill’s mom has tears in her eyes as she watches Mariah crawl across the bed and try to get down.

“Here is an FYI for you folks. Unless you want a real relationship with Jillian, without judgments and hateful words, then you’re no longer welcome in Jill or Mariah’s presence. You people have put her through enough over the years, and she deserves to only be around people that love her and believe in her. If you plan to be supportive and loving, you are welcome back. Otherwise, I don’t want to see your faces or hear that you’ve tried to contact her. Now if you don’t leave, I will call security.”

Mariah gazes up at Jill’s mom from the end of the bed and smiles, and I swear that melts half the ice on her heart. She reaches out and softly strokes Mariah’s cheek with one finger.

Then she grips her husband’s arm and says, “Except for the eyes, she looks just like Jill when she was a baby.”

Instead of looking at Mariah, he grabs his wife’s hand and jerks her from the room. When they get to the hall, we can hear a verbal scuffle ensue. Although voices are raised, we can’t make out anything being said. It quiets down once more, and her mother comes back into the room. She watches me warily as she approaches Jill.

“She’s beautiful, Jillian, and so happy. That’s really all I ever wanted for you and Isaiah. I’m not sure where I went so wrong.”

She starts to leave the room and Jill speaks up, “You listened too much to my father and not enough to what the scripture really says or what you knew was right. Johnny was correct. I’ll never let you or anyone else treat me like you did before. If you decide you want to try again with me, you can call me.”

Jill’s eyes meet mine as she requests, “Johnny, can you give my mother my phone number?”

I nod reluctantly and walk to the nurses’ station to find a piece of paper and a pen to get it for her. My dad stands like a sentry by the door as Mariah toddles around the room touching everything.

****

Jill

Johnny has just left the room as I continue. “Mom, I’m serious. I’m open to a relationship with you and allowing Mariah to build one with you, but only if you can follow Johnny’s guidelines. I love my family and will protect them at all costs.”

“But Jill, we are your family.”

“By birth only, Mother. The way you’ve both treated me over the years isn’t a horror I’d wish on anyone. I’ve learned that love makes people a family, not a name. Take care of yourself, Mother.” I dismiss her by turning my head away. Without another word, my mom walks out of the room pausing only to peek back at Mariah once.

Johnny returns to the room and lets me know that he gave the number to my mom but wasn’t happy about it. I tell him that we will see if she even uses it before we get worked up about anything else.

Not even half an hour later, Cici shows up with Denton in tow. They have been to visit every day since the shooting, and Cici spends a crazy amount of time talking my ears off. I love her. She’s funny, outgoing, and just the kind of person I need in my life. She promised to take me to the gun range and teach me how to shoot. I tease her all the time that I will get her a superhero cape because she saved my life. Apparently, after Mindy shot me, she dragged me away from the door and was poised to shoot me again when Cici fired at her through the glass in the front door. Thank goodness the circumstances surrounding the incident were clear enough to get her through an internal affairs investigation. I’m not sure how I’d feel if she lost her job because of me.

I even received flowers and a note from Mindy’s parents apologizing. They mentioned that she’s been on medication for years, and they weren’t aware that she’d stopped taking it several months before the attack. It was obvious they felt bad, but I don’t blame them. She was a grown woman and should be responsible for her own actions. The doctor prescribed sleeping medication for me, because I’m so afraid of the dreams that accompany sleep, reliving the moments I was at her mercy, I’m fighting sleep. It’s been rough.

I’m taking Tara’s recommendation and going to her counselor once I get out of here, which should be in a day or two. One of the nurses mentioned that I probably have PTSD, which coupled with the prior experiences of my life makes getting help a priority.

Mary has come up here about every other day since she’s helping Johnny after work with Mariah, and we’ve had plenty of time to talk, too. It’s really nice to have girlfriends for a change, people I can talk to about everything and not feel self-conscious. Cici has convinced Mary and me to join her and her other friends for girls’ night out when I’m healed. Life is good right now, even if I’m recovering from a gunshot wound. For the first time in my life, I’m content, happy even with my relationships and a future I can finally see with more clarity than ever before.