Random Acts

by Jennifer Hebbard

  RANDOM ACTS

  JENNIFER HEBBARD

  © 2019 Jennifer Hebbard

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced without permission.

  ISBN-13:

  ISBN-10:

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  Acknowledgments

  Greatest of thanks to Nancy Healy for all of your help and encouragement. The end result of this book would simply not have been possible without you.

  Thank you to Jordan for brainstorming names in a small dirty shack with me for hours and for always reading what I sent you and telling me when I got too sappy.

  Thank you to my beta readers, Jeannie Guttenburg, Sheryl Bennett and Nancy Healy. Your time and suggestions were greatly appreciated and helped to make this the book I have always dreamed about.

  Finally to Amy- Bitches be simple.

  DEDICATION

  For- Alison Parker and Adam Ward

  May you Rest in Peace

  CHAPTER ONE

  The anchorwoman sat frozen in place. All she could do was stare blankly at the red flashing light in front of her indicating that yes, she was indeed live on the air. Every time she attempted to speak it felt as if the air had been violently forced out of her lungs. She hadn't been much paying attention to the on-site interview the female reporter was giving. It was a fluff piece, and she knew the reporter, Grace, was pissed about having to do it at all. She knew this because she had listened to Grace complain about it for hours in bed the night before. Grace was not only her co-worker but also her wife of eight years. So today, Parker figured she could half listen to the interview Grace was conducting and use time to go over her notes for the next story. She was at the anchor desk that day, right where she belonged, she thought with a small smirk. She hadn’t gotten the anchor job permanently, not yet anyway, but she had no doubt that it was only a matter of time. So, she found herself only half listening to her wife ask her questions with false cheer and interest lacing her voice.

  BANG. BANG. BANG. She heard the noises. Of course, she did. They all did—so many times that they knew it couldn't be just a car backfiring. Parker's head shot up straight, eyes wide and pulse hammering. What the fuck! She knew that sound. Gunshots. But that couldn't be right, could it? No. Of course not. She must be mistaken. They were in suburban Colorado not a war zone for Christ’s sake. Grace was doing an interview at a soon to be opened petting zoo, much to her chagrin. The owner had been talking about setting up a live feed for some of the animals or some such thing. Certainly, there was no one with a gun there, now. Yet Parker couldn't stave off the feeling of ice running through her veins. Grace. Where was Grace? Where was her wife? Parker half-stood in the anchor chair, frantically looking for the monitor that held the live feed. Her eyes scanned the correct monitor briefly, but her brain couldn't make sense of what she was seeing. The camera feed was still running but all she saw was the ground and off to the right of the frame one stylish high-heeled shoe—Grace's shoe. Just then the news director frantically waved at Parker.

  “We're back live Park—Now!”

  Parker fell heavily back into her chair and stared. Her brain was screaming at her to speak, to say anything. Grace was fine, she had to be, didn’t she? These sorts of things didn't happen to her. To other people, sure, all the time. She watched it on the news. Hell she reported these stories herself, but they didn't happen to people like her, like Grace. Their life was set, planned out to a tee and there was no violence, no gunshots, no any of this. All of these things raced through Parker's head in a heated instant, all while she stared mutely at that damn red blinking light. An eternity in one moment. Her whole life, her plans, her future, shattered in a single moment in time. She heard the police broadcast in the newsroom through the ear piece she wore. “Two down. Suspect in custody. Send for the coroner.” Parker's world went dark after that. Completely and utterly black. Except for that red blinking light.

  FIVE YEARS LATER

  The bedside alarm blared with indifferent noise. Parker fumbled for it blindly, knocking it to the floor and ending the infernal beeping abruptly. She didn't know why she still set the damn thing. Habit she supposed. It wasn't like she was going anywhere. She hadn’t left the house for any meaningful reason for a few years now. She supposed she still did it in an attempt to valiantly retain some semblance of a normal life. For just an instant, when that alarm sounded in that magical haze between dreams and reality, sleep and wake, everything was normal again. She had a bright future as a rising news anchor. She had big dreams for a big future. Grace wasn't dead. Grace. Wasn’t. Dead. But, she was, and Parker was very far from the cut throat, rising news star she had once been. So far removed in fact, that she barely remembered that Parker at all, and sometimes wondered if she ever really existed. Parker sighed in the face of reality and slowly made her way out of bed, dragging one tired limb at a time to the floor. Sleep seemed to be a thing of the past. She could usually fall asleep just fine, but staying asleep, well, that was an entirely different matter altogether. Sometimes, she didn't even know why she bothered any longer. But she still did it, every day, still pretended that she was living.

  She hadn't left the home she had shared with Grace in four years. Here and there she would venture to the porch for the paper or to just stand and stare at the world outside. Where once, everywhere she looked she saw a potential story. Now, she just didn't seem to have any interest in it, none of it. She stopped seeing the world outside her home in color at all. Everything was black and white and none of it brought her any joy. Her doctor diagnosed her with depression and acute anxiety disorder brought on by severe trauma and PTSD. There was talk of an agoraphobia diagnosis as well, but Parker knew that wasn't right. She could leave the house if she wanted to. Sure, it caused anxiety and fear but she could do it. She simply didn't want to anymore. She saw no reason to cause those feelings inside of her by leaving the house. There was nothing out there for her anymore. All she really knew was that she existed in a world she no longer desired to be a part of. The first year after Grace's murder, she walked through the world like a zombie. She never did another newscast after that day. She tried a few times but every time she sat at the anchor desk she heard the shots again, saw Grace's lone shoe half out of camera range, and she once again became a catatonic mute. All of her dreams had been washed away, just like Grace’s blood on the concrete that day. She finally quit the station to save herself the humiliation of being let go. At first, she was still able to go outside and do her day to day errands. Thanks to an inheritance from her grandfather, she didn't have to worry about finding other employment. Thankfully, she was able to avoid the constant anxiety of finances. Slowly, when she was outside the house she began to see the shooters face everywhere, logically she knew that he was in prison, that he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore but still, there he was. Worse than that though, she saw Grace. On every street corner, in the aisle at the grocery store. There she was, her wife. Grace’s perfect dark hair framing the face that Parker never got tired of looking at, her blue eyes looking like the sea glinting in the sunlight. She plead with Parker silently, this specter she saw. To help her, to save her, to not let her die. Parker couldn't take it anymore. She harbored so much guilt, so much pain. Why hadn’t she listened to Grace the night before the shooting more closely? Had she kissed her goodnight? Told her she loved her? Told her that she was P
arker’s entire world? So, one day she came home, tired in so many more ways than just physically, locked the door behind her and allowed her world to unravel.

  Parker didn't think being a shut-in was all that bad to be honest. In this modern day of the internet she could order almost anything she needed online, and have it delivered right to her door. She gave her best friend Samantha $400 a month and that took care of her food, drinks and other incidentals— and anything else she really needed. Parker and Sam had been friends for years, even since before she knew Grace. Sam was all that Parker had left in the world that she cared about. Sam stopped by to check on Parker at least 3 times a week. When she wasn't there in person, she was calling. Sam usually tried to get her to leave her house, always failing—much to both Sam’s and Parker’s frustration. Sam still came faithfully, and still tried, though and Parker didn't know what she would do without her.

  Parker stepped into the shower and stood under the warm spray for several moments, lost in her own sad world as the water slowly woke her tired body. The warmth sluiced down her thin, fit body. She was at one time very proud of her toned frame and spent many days in the gym keeping it up. These days, she still worked out with the equipment she had in her home. She no longer did it out of vanity, but more out of routine. She couldn’t care less what she looked like now. What did it matter anymore? She quickly washed and stepped out. Sam was due to deliver her groceries today and she wanted to be dressed and ready when she arrived. She dressed in sweat pants and her favorite red hoodie which was her usual daily outfit. Long gone were the high heels and business suits of what she had come to think of as her ‘former life.’ She never left the house, and if nothing else she wanted to be at least physically comfortable as often as possible. After years of dressing for success, it took no time at all to get used to this level of comfort. She towel-dried her short blonde hair as she walked out of the bathroom throwing the damp towel on the bed. She stopped and stared at the silver framed picture displayed prominently on the dresser. Her and Grace's wedding photo. They were both smiling wide at the camera. Young, happy and in love. They thought there was nothing that could stop them, and they had the world at their fingertips, with an eternity ahead of them to realize all of their dreams. Parker thought she would give anything at all to be able to go back to that day. She wished fervently every morning that she would open her eyes and see Grace lying next to her again, snoring in that cute way that she did, that always sort of annoyed her a bit until the day she didn’t hear it anymore. She wished that the past five years were nothing but a horrific nightmare. One more day, one more second is all she wished for day in and day out. One more glance, one more hug, one more anything at all. Parker thought with a sigh, this was no nightmare. This was sadly her reality now and it would never change, her life would never be the same again. She ran her finger over Graces face in the photo. “I miss you so much, baby.” She left her bedroom and the wedding photo behind and headed downstairs to start her day. She grabbed a Pepsi out of the fridge and immediately downed half of it. She never did care for coffee in the morning or any other time really. But she couldn't start her day without some infusion of caffeine. Grace used to tease her about her adolescent morning drink. Sam still did. She figured as addictions went caffeine was a relatively mild one. Especially considering what she could be using to escape her present reality. Her cell phone rang then. She looked at the caller I.D. and smiled. Sam’s picture popped up. A goofy shot of Sam with her eyes crossed that Parker herself had taken at a party years ago.

  “Are you on your way yet?” Parker asked happily.

  “Almost there,” responded Sam. “Just wanted to call and make sure you had dragged your ass out of bed.”

  “Of course, I'm up, aren't I always?” Parker answered indignantly .

  “Yeah, I guess you are,” Sam said with a laugh. “After we get your groceries put away, wanna go for a walk in the park with me?”

  “Just use your key and let yourself in when you get here,” Parker said hanging up and shaking her head. One thing about Sam was she never gave up, that was for sure. For that Parker was thankful. At least one of them hadn’t.

  Sam arrived promptly and true to form tried to get Parker out of the house.

  “It won't kill you,” Sam said without thinking. She covered her mouth with her hand at the faux pas.

  Parker flinched perceptively closing her eyes briefly and seeing a flash of Grace's face when she did.

  “I'm sorry, Park, I … sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain.”

  “It's ok Sam. But can we please just drop the subject for now? Please?”

  “Ok. I just worry about you is all,” Sam replied, eyes wet with unshed tears.

  Parker knew Sam didn't mean to hurt her. It happened all the time with everyone. People tended to tip toe around her since Grace's death. Always afraid they would say or do the wrong thing and upset her. Parker knew she wasn't nearly as fragile as everyone thought she was. She got so very tired of saying, “That's ok,” and, “I’m fine,” that she just simply stopped doing it all together. Stopped saying it and stopped talking to just about everyone eventually. For the first year of her self-imposed exile, friends stopped by and called her on a regular basis. Until, of course, they realized that Parker wasn't going to just 'snap out of it.' That was when the calls and visits lessened every month until eventually no one but Sam saw or spoke to Parker at all. That was just fine with her. If not content, she had grown very comfortable in her isolation. She preferred her own company now and being left alone with her memories. For even though they haunted her, she cherished them all the same.

  “It's not your fault you know. There is nothing you could have done to save her, Parker,” Sam said suddenly as if reading Parker's mind and snapping her out of her reverie. Sam kissed her on the cheek on her way out the door. “You couldn’t have stopped it Park. I love you, call me later.”

  “I know,” she replied, and she did know. At least, the rational part of her that still existed did. She knew rationally that she couldn't have prevented Grace's murder. Her guilt stemmed from the fact that she really didn't pay much attention to Grace the night before or even the morning of her murder, maybe even before then. She knew Grace was increasingly unhappy with the caliber of her assignments, but Parker was too caught up in her own career to pay much attention to Grace's complaints. She not only ignored Grace the night before her death, she actually laughed off her complaints. Grace wasn't happy with her the next morning. In fact, Grace didn't even kiss her goodbye. Neither one knew that there would never be another kiss of any kind again. Her biggest regret, though was not watching Grace's interview that morning. Those were the last moments of her life. Her last word, her last smile, her last breath. She missed seeing the last moments of her wife's life, and for that she didn't know if she could ever forgive herself.

  Parker ambled around her house aimlessly. She had things she could do, she just had no desire to do any of them. She often visited various internet chat sites, or Facebook, and had even made some connections there over the years, but talking to another person, even virtually sometimes required more energy than she had most of the time and definitely after a visit like the one she just had with Sam. She loved Sam, she really did, and appreciated everything she did and continued to do for her. It was just that sometimes she wished Sam could truly understand what she felt, the crosses she forced herself to bear on a daily basis. She wished there was someone that could just “get it,” to just understand even for a moment what it was like to be in her skin. She had given up on that dream long ago. Parker turned frustrated and decided to head upstairs to her bedroom to read and maybe take a nap. Her mind was whirling in so many different directions that she never once noticed the pair of running shoes left haphazardly on the fourth stair. Before Parker even knew what was happening she was falling backwards. She wasn't even really sure what was happening until she landed hard at the bottom of the stairs and heard a loud snap. She lay dazed on her back
, not feeling any pain right away because she was more in shock than anything else. The adrenaline dumped into her system with the shock of the fall slowly ebbed away after her hard landing. Parker moaned as the pain hit her. She tried to sit up but couldn't. The nausea hit her hard and she turned her head to the side and emptied her stomach. The last thing she saw was the shard of impossibly white bone sticking out of her shin and then darkness blessedly claimed her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dylan walked out of the Emergency Room ambulance bay doors and gulped the cool night air into her lungs. Bending over at the waist, she breathed heavily and tried to keep the tears that were swimming in her eyes from escaping down the side of her face. The cool air felt good on her overheated skin as she began to compose herself. She had been an ER nurse for slightly over 5 years, and she honestly didn't know how much longer she would be able to continue doing the job. She loved it; she did, but she hated it as well. She had just left the trauma area where she watched a 9 year old child bleed to death. She shook her head violently to try to dispel the memories that rushed back at her.

  Dylan had just sat down to eat a late meal when an incoming trauma call was announced overhead. She sighed, another meal missed as she put down her fork and grabbed her stethoscope off the lunch room table. The stethoscope had been a gift from her sister when Dylan had graduated nursing school. It had her initials followed by the letters, RN, engraved into it. She thought back to that time when she was a new nurse. It was so different. She had an exuberance for her work—for life in general. She had boundless amounts of energy and a deep-seated need to help people—to heal them. She still wanted to help people, and she did help them, every day. But Dylan’s energy was depleted and had been for quite some time. She couldn't remember the last time she didn't feel bone-weary tiredness right down to her soul. She knew burn-out was common with ER personnel, she just never thought it would happen to her.