The House On Hope Street

by Steel, Danielle

  “Not yet, sweetheart,” she whispered to him. “Why don’t you sleep with us for a while. It’s still nighttime.”

  “When will it be time to go downstairs?” he whispered softly.

  “Not for another couple of hours.” She was hoping to stall him for as long as possible. At least till eight, if she was lucky. The others were old enough not to want to get up at the crack of dawn anymore. But Jamie was overwhelmed with excitement and anticipation. Eventually, she tiptoed back to his room with him, and gave him a kiss and a bucket of Legos to play with. “I’ll come and get you when it’s time,” she promised as he started building something with the Lego blocks, and she went back to cuddle up to Jack for another hour. He was warm and cozy, and she smiled to herself as she tucked herself in right behind him.

  It was after eight when Jack finally stirred, and Jamie walked back into their bedroom. He said he’d used up all his Legos. Liz kissed her husband and smiled at him, as he grinned sleepily at her, remembering the pleasures of the night before, and she sent Jamie to wake the others.

  “How long have you been up?” Jack asked, casting a lazy arm around her, and pulling her closer.

  “Jamie came in at six-thirty. He’s been very patient, but I don’t think he’ll hold out for much longer.” Five minutes later, he was back in their bedroom, with the others straggling behind him. The girls looked half asleep, and Peter had an arm around Jamie. He had helped put the bike together for him the night before, and was smiling, thinking of how much Jamie was going to like it.

  “Come on, get up, Dad,” Peter said with a grin, pulling the covers off his father, as Jack groaned and rolled over, trying to put a pillow over his head, but just watching him do it brought out a spirit of mischief in his daughters, and before he could defend himself, Annie and Rachel jumped on top of him, and Megan tickled him, as Jamie squealed in delighted excitement. Liz got up and put her robe on as she watched them. They were suddenly a tangle of arms and legs, all acting like little kids again, as their father retaliated and tickled them, and pulled Jamie into bed with him. They were one big pretzel of giggling kids and bodies as Liz laughed and finally rescued Jack, and told them all it was time to go downstairs and see what Santa had left them. Jamie was the first off the bed as soon as she said it, and rushed headlong toward the doorway, and the others followed suit, still laughing, as Peter and Jack walked behind them. Jamie was already halfway down the stairs as the others left their parents’ bedroom.

  He couldn’t quite see his presents yet, he had to round a turn in the stairs, but as he did he saw it, bright and shiny and red and beautiful, and as Liz watched his face, she felt tears spring to her eyes. The look on Jamie’s face was the magic of Christmas, as he saw the bike, and then dove down the stairs to it, and the others all watched him with pride and pleasure. Liz held the bike for him as he got onto it, and Peter took the handlebars and led him around the living room, trying not to run over the others’ presents. But Jamie was so excited he was barely coherent.

  “I got it! I got it! Santa gave me the bike!” he shouted to everyone, as Jack put on a CD of Christmas carols. And suddenly, the whole house seemed filled with the Christmas spirit. The girls settled down to open their presents then too, and Peter eventually convinced Jamie to get off the bike for a while, so they could both open their presents. Jack had opened the set of Chaucer by then, and a cashmere jacket Liz had bought for him at Neiman Marcus. And Liz was thrilled when she opened the gold bracelet Jack had bought her the day before, it was perfect for her, and she loved it, as he hoped she would.

  They spent half an hour opening gifts, and exclaiming over what they got, and then Jamie got back on the bike again, and Peter helped him balance it, as Liz went to cook their breakfast. She was going to make them all waffles and sausages and bacon, their standard Christmas breakfast. And as she made the waffles and hummed Christmas carols to herself, Jack wandered into the kitchen to keep her company, and she told him again how much she loved her bracelet.

  “I love you, Liz,” he said, looking tenderly at her. “Do you ever think about how lucky we are?” He glanced toward the happy sounds coming from the living room as he said it.

  “Oh, about a hundred times a day, sometimes more than that.” She came over to put her arms around him and kiss him, and he hugged her tight.

  “Thank you for everything you do for me … I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, but whatever it is, I’m just glad we have each other.” He said it very gently as he held her in his arms.

  “Me too,” she said, and then hurried back to the stove to turn the sausages and bacon. He made coffee and poured orange juice while she did the waffles and finished the sausages and bacon, and they all sat down to breakfast shortly after, chattering about their gifts, and laughing and teasing each other. Jamie lay the bike down on the kitchen floor next to him. If they’d have let him, he’d have sat on it while he ate breakfast.

  “What’s everyone going to do today?” Jack asked as he poured himself a second cup of coffee, and the others groaned over how much they’d eaten and how full they were.

  “I have to get the turkey started pretty soon,” Liz said, glancing at the clock. She’d bought a twenty pounder, and it would take most of the day to cook. And Jack had to make his famous stuffing.

  The girls said they wanted to try on their gifts and call their friends. Peter wanted to drop in at Jessica’s again, and Jamie made him promise to come back soon so he could help him ride his new bike, and Jack said he was going to drop by the office for a little while.

  “On Christmas Day?” Liz looked at him in surprise.

  “Just for a few minutes.” He told her he had forgotten one of the files he wanted to work on over the weekend.

  “Why don’t you forget about it till tomorrow? You don’t need it today,” she chided him. He was beginning to sound like a workaholic. After all, it was Christmas Day.

  “I’ll feel better if I know it’s here, then I can just get up tomorrow and do it.” Jack said, looking apologetically at his wife.

  “What was that you were telling me about learning to leave my work at the office? Practice what you preach, Counselor.”

  “I’ll be gone five minutes, and then I’ll come home and do the stuffing. I’ll be back before you know it.” He smiled at her, and kissed her after the children left, and then he helped her clear the table.

  She stayed in the kitchen to start getting the turkey ready, and half an hour later he came downstairs, in khaki pants and a red sweater, freshly shaved.

  “Do you need anything?” he asked before he left, and she shook her head and smiled at him.

  “Just you. Unlike some people I know, I’m not planning to work this weekend. On holidays, I take the day off.”

  She was still wearing her bathrobe, and her red hair looked straight and smooth as it hung below her shoulders, and the big green eyes looked lovingly at him. To him, she didn’t look a minute older than when they had married. “I love you, Liz,” he said gently, and kissed her, and then he headed out the door with a smile.

  He thought about her all the way to the office, and pulled into his usual parking space outside their building. He let himself in with his keys, and left the door open behind him. He unset the alarm, and walked into their office. He knew exactly where the file was, and knew it would take him less than a minute to get it. And he was already on his way back to reset the alarm, when he heard footsteps in the hallway. He knew there was no one else there, and wondered if Liz had followed him, but that didn’t make sense, and he stuck his head out the doorway to see who, if anyone, had come in after he did.

  “Hello?” Jack called out, and there was no answer, but he heard a rustling sound, and then a strange metallic click, and as he turned a corner, he found himself suddenly looking straight at Phillip Parker, Amanda’s husband. He had an ugly look on his face, and he looked disheveled and dirty and hungover. And then, Jack looked down and saw that Phillip was holding a gun aimed at him, a
nd he felt strangely calm as he spoke to their client’s husband. “You don’t need that here, Phil. Put the gun down.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, you son of a bitch. You thought you could fuck with me, didn’t you? Thought you could scare me. Well, you don’t scare me, you piss me off. You twisted her around, got her to do everything you wanted, you think you’re doing her such a big favor, well, you want to know what you did for her?” Jack saw that he was crying then, and that Parker had a long smear of blood on one sleeve, and he looked like he’d gone crazy. Jack had the feeling that the man holding the gun had either been drugging or drinking. He seemed completely irrational, and hysterical as he rambled. “I told her I’d kill her if you didn’t back off … I’m not going to let you do that to me … you can’t freeze everything I own and fuck with me like that … I told her I’d do it … I told her … she has no right … you have no right …”

  “It’s just for a month, Phil, until you give us the information we asked for. We can undo it anytime. Monday, if you want. Just take it easy.” Jack’s voice was deep and calm and soothing, but his heart was racing.

  “No, you take it easy. Don’t tell me what to do. It’s too late anyway. It doesn’t matter anymore. You ruined everything. You made me do it.”

  “Made you do what, Phil?” But Jack knew instinctively, even before Phil Parker said it. Liz had been right, they had driven him over the edge, and as Jack watched him, he was suddenly panicked for Amanda. What had Parker done to her, or the children?

  “I killed her,” Phil said flatly, and began to sob as soon as he said it. “It’s your fault. I didn’t want to do it. But I had to. She wanted to take everything I had … she wanted all of it, didn’t she? The little tramp … you had no right … what was I supposed to do while you froze everything? Starve?” Jack knew it was pointless to answer him, all he could do now was pray that what Phil said wasn’t true.

  “How did you know I’d be here, Phil?” Jack asked calmly.

  “I followed you. I’ve been outside your house all morning.”

  “Where’s Amanda?”

  “I told you … she’s dead …” He wiped his nose on his sleeve and the blood on his jacket smeared across his face as he did it.

  “Where are the kids?”

  “They’re with her. I left them there,” he said, crying softly.

  “Did you kill them too?” Phil shook his head and pointed the gun at Jack’s head.

  “I locked them in her bedroom with her.” Jack felt his stomach turn over as Phil said it. “And now I have to kill you. It’s only fair. This is all your fault. You made her do it. She was a nice girl until you came along. It’s all your fault, you bastard.”

  “I know it is. It’s not Amanda’s fault, Phil. Now put the gun down and let’s talk about it.”

  “You son of a bitch, don’t tell me what to do or I’ll kill you too.” He went from grief to rage in the fraction of an instant, and his eyes were lasers as they bore through Jack’s, and Jack suddenly realized that he meant everything he was saying, and was capable of delivering on it.

  “Put the gun down, Phil.” Jack’s voice was calm and powerful as he slowly took a step toward Phillip Parker. “Put it down, Phil.”

  “Fuck you, you bastard,” he said, but lowered the gun slowly down from his aim at Jack’s forehead, and Jack realized that he was slowly winning. Phil was wavering, and in a minute, Jack was going to make a move and take the gun. He never took his eyes from Phil’s and continued to advance slowly toward him, and then as he had almost reached him, there was the sound of an explosion in the room, and Jack stared at him in amazement. The gun was aimed at his chest, and for a long moment, Jack felt absolutely nothing, and was sure he had missed him, but the bullet had gone into him so cleanly he barely felt it. He stood where he was and watched, unable to move or raise his arms, as Phil Parker then put the gun in his own mouth, squeezed the trigger, and blew the back of his head off, and as his blood and brains splattered all over the wall behind him, Jack felt a cannonball hit him in the chest, and he dropped to his knees, trying to understand what had happened. It had all happened so quickly. He knew he had to call someone before he lost consciousness, and he could see a phone on the desk as he fell slowly against it. He could just barely reach it, as he grabbed the receiver and pulled it toward him, and dialed 911. He could hear the voice in his ear as he fell toward the floor, but he could barely breathe now.

  “Police emergency.”

  “I’ve been shot …” He managed to squeeze the words out, and he could see red oozing from his sweater onto the carpet where he was lying.

  They repeated his phone number and address back to him, as Jack gasped into the phone and confirmed it and told them the door was open. “Call my wife,” he said hoarsely, and could feel his eyes closing as he gave them her number.

  “An ambulance is on its way. They’ll be there in less than three minutes,” the voice said, and he had trouble understanding what they were saying. Why an ambulance? Why were they sending an ambulance? He couldn’t remember. All he wanted was Liz. And as he closed his eyes and lay on the floor, he felt cold and wet, and he could hear a siren in the distance. He wondered if it was Liz, and why she was making so much noise. And then suddenly, he could hear voices all around him, and someone was moving him. They put something on his face, and they were tearing at him and pulling him, and the voices were shouting. He couldn’t remember why they were there or what had happened. And where was Liz? What had they done with her? He could feel himself sliding into blackness but someone kept calling him, and all he wanted was Liz now, not all these people, shouting at him. Who were they? And where were his wife and children?

  Liz had still been in the kitchen in her bathrobe when they called. It was about ten minutes after Jack left, and she had a funny feeling suddenly that it might be Amanda. But she was surprised when it was a strange voice on the phone. The caller said he was a police officer and they had reason to believe that her husband had been injured at their office, and had asked them to call her. An ambulance had already been dispatched to their office.

  “My husband?” She wondered if it was a prank. It didn’t make any sense. He had only left a few minutes before. “Was he in a car accident on the way over?” But why didn’t he call her himself? This was crazy.

  “The caller said he had been shot,” the officer said gently.

  “Shot? Jack? Are you sure?”

  “They’re not on the scene yet, but the caller asked us to call his wife, and gave us your number. You might want to go right over.” As Liz listened to him, she thought about going upstairs to get dressed, and then decided not to. If it was true, and Jack was hurt, she needed to get there in a hurry. She thanked the voice on the phone, and ran to the foot of the stairs to call out to Peter and tell him to keep an eye on Jamie.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she called up to him when he acknowledged her, and she didn’t wait around to explain it. She just grabbed her car keys off the kitchen counter, and headed out the door in her bathrobe. And as soon as she got in her car, and backed out of the driveway, she found herself praying … let him be okay … please God … let him be okay … please … The words on the phone kept ringing in her head … the caller said he had been shot … shot … shot … but how could Jack have been shot? That was crazy. It was Christmas and he had to make the stuffing. All she could think of was the look on his face as he had smiled at her and walked out of the kitchen in his khakis and red sweater … the caller had been shot …

  She drove into the parking lot outside their office at breakneck speed and saw two squad cars and an ambulance with their lights flashing, and she ran inside as fast as she could to see what had happened. She raced up the stairs saying his name under her breath … Jack … Jack … as though to call out to him … to let him know she was coming, and she couldn’t see him when she walked in. All she could see was the cluster of police officers and paramedics hovering around him. The paramedics were
working on him, and as she looked behind them, she saw the wall of blood where Phil Parker had shot himself, and she felt dizzy the instant she saw it. His body lay below it, covered by a tarp. And then, without thinking, she shoved one of the officers aside, and was suddenly looking down at her husband. He was the color of concrete, and his eyes were closed, as instantly she put a hand over her mouth and gasped, as she dropped to her knees beside him. And then as though he knew she was there, Tack’s eyes fluttered open. They had an IV in his arm, and were doing something to the wound in his chest. The sweater they had cut off lay on the bloodstained carpet beside him. There was blood everywhere, all over him and them and the carpet beneath him, and as she leaned over him, it was suddenly all over her too, but he smiled when he saw her.

  “What happened?” she asked, too frightened to even absorb what was happening, or understand it.

  “Parker,” he said in a whisper and closed his eyes again, as they moved him as gently and as swiftly as they could onto a gurney, but his eyes rolled back in his head as they did it, and then he looked at her again and frowned, determined to tell her something. “Love you … it’s okay, Liz …” He tried to reach out to her with one hand, but he didn’t seem to have the strength, and as she ran beside the gurney with them, she could see him lose consciousness, and she was suddenly aware of an overwhelming sense of panic. They couldn’t stop the bleeding, and his blood pressure was dropping uncontrollably. Somebody grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her into the ambulance, the door slammed, and they careened away from the curb, and both paramedics were working frantically over him, and talking tersely to each other. But he didn’t open his eyes again, or speak to her, and she sat on the floor staring at what was happening, unable to believe what she was seeing, or what she was hearing. And then suddenly one of the paramedics was compressing Jack’s chest, as blood gushed everywhere. The ambulance seemed to be filled with Jack’s blood and she was covered with it, and she could hear the other paramedic saying over and over again … no pulse … no blood pressure … no heartbeat … as she stared at them in horror. And as they reached the hospital, they turned and looked at her and the one who had been doing the chest compressions on Jack shook his head with a look of sorrow.