Across the Western Sky

by S. C. Armstrong

  The gunshots from inside the house made her stop. She froze in place, her hands covering her ears. But that paralysis only lasted a second. Hannah dashed up the rest of the steps, as fast as the drugs still in her system allowed.

  “No, Hannah! Stop!” her father screamed.

  Hannah didn’t listen. She reached the glass door and turned the handle. Even before she entered, she saw the scene. Closest to her, Jake lay on the floor, a geyser of blood spurting from his leg. Curt’s mom knelt beside him, tying a cloth at his leg, a gun on the floor beside her.

  “I didn’t mean to shoot your artery,” she explained calmly to Jake. “But you were going to shoot my son, so you didn’t give me much choice, did you?”

  Hannah entered as Jake stammered back an incomprehensible reply.

  Elizabeth McDonald looked up at Hannah but said nothing, immediately returning her focus to Jake. “This is going to hurt. I’m making a tourniquet on your leg, which should stop the bleeding. But you’re an EMT, so you should understand what I’m doing.”

  Hannah’s eyes moved past Jake, where Curt lay on the floor.

  “Curt!” Hannah rushed past Jake and knelt by Curt’s side.

  Kate was on the other, pressing a balled up cloth against Curt’s arm, tears streaming down her face.

  Hannah spilled tears of her own. “I’m sorry, Curt. I told them you weren’t involved, that you didn’t do anything bad to me. That you never would.

  Curt was conscious. “I’m okay, Hannah,” he said in a weak voice. “He just grazed my arm. I’m okay.”

  By now, Caleb Wilson had entered the house. “God have mercy!” he exclaimed when he saw the scene inside. “What happened?”

  Elizabeth McDonald glanced up at him. “Mr. Ankiel came into our house with a gun, threatening to shoot my son. So I shot him.” Her tone and eyes remained even as if this was simply another normal day.

  Hannah’s dad appeared as though he believed her account. At the very least, he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention to Jake and knelt next to the young man.

  “Jake, why did you do this?” he asked, his words full of anguish. “This is not the way for us. Even if he had done something to Hannah. We’re supposed to forgive.”

  “There will be time for Mr. Ankiel to learn that lesson later, Reverend, provided we adequately stop the bleeding,” Elizabeth McDonald said.

  By now, the geyser had stopped, but blood still saturated the cloth around Jake’s leg.

  “For now, could you get a screwdriver and duct tape from the drawer underneath the microwave in the kitchen.”

  Wilson remained in place before finally comprehending her instructions. He hustled past Curt into the kitchen and returned after a moment or two. He handed the requested items to Curt’s mom.

  Elizabeth took the screwdriver and used it to ratchet the cloth more tightly against Jake’s leg. Her patient gasped in pain.

  “I know, it hurts. But it will stop the bleeding,” she said.

  She turned to Wilson. “Take this tape and wrap it around the cloth so it stays in place. That should keep him stable until the paramedics show up.” Elizabeth rotated her head toward Kate. “You did call paramedics, right dear?”

  Kate nodded but didn’t manage any verbal reply.

  “Good.” Curt’s mom sat up and exhaled.

  With Jake now cared for, she turned her attention toward Curt. Staying on her knees, she crawled over to him.

  “Are you still okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, Mom. I’m going to be alright.”

  She smiled at him but could only hold the expression for a moment before the grief overtook her. Elizabeth McDonald sobbed over her son. “Don’t you ever die! Do you hear me? You’re not allowed to die!”

  She pressed her cheek against Curt’s, sobs heaving through her body.

  “I’m okay, Mom,” Curt said, reaching for her hand. “I’m okay.”

  In the chaos of blood and tears, Hannah whispered nearly inaudible prayers to God, pleading for the lives of Curt and Jake and for the tears to shift into joy somehow.

  Paramedics arrived soon. Jake and Curt were placed on gurneys and taken into separate ambulances. Kate and Elizabeth McDonald followed behind Curt. Before he disappeared through the door, he locked eyes with her and smiled. Hannah tried to return the expression as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. How could he smile after something like this happened? In church, someone would’ve claimed that peace came from Jesus. Maybe Curt found peace from somewhere else.

  “Sometimes the people that don’t believe are better than us,” Hannah said after Curt’s gurney disappeared through the door. “They’re more moral. More righteous. More like Jesus.”

  Caleb Wilson cast his eyes toward the ceiling, now painted red with the arterial spray from Jake’s leg. “Yes, I suppose they are. But we all need grace.” He shook his head. “What a mess. Seems like after the police are done here, we should help them clean this up, shouldn’t we?”

  Hannah nodded. “That seems like something we could do.”

  Caleb Wilson smiled. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital, so you can check on your friend? I’m sure your visit would mean a lot to him.”

  Hannah gazed at her father in wonder.

  “You know, just to make sure the young man is okay?”

  Her face lit up. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  Caleb Wilson squeezed her shoulder tight, and then the two walked hand in hand to their car.

  38

  The Hospital

  Justin walked through the automatic doors of the hospital. Elizabeth McDonald had dropped the bombshell via a short but information-packed phone call. Curt had been shot by Jake. Something about Greg drugging Hannah, which sparked the mess. He’s okay, she emphasized multiple times. He’s okay.

  Justin forced himself to believe that. And not only because he feared losing another person he cared about. Guilt more so than anger or sadness dominated Justin’s mind. He’d been part of this downward spiral, this negative feedback loop that had led to the showdown at the McDonald house. Yes, Jake pulled the trigger. But Justin doubted that would have happened without his own quest for revenge against Beaumont Baptist Church.

  Inside the hospital waiting room, seated on one of the reasonably comfortable padded blue chairs, sat a person Justin didn’t expect to encounter: Caleb Wilson. He was slumped over, his hand holding his head up. Maybe the reverend was there to visit Jake, who’d taken the worst of the confrontation, according to Elizabeth. Wilson’s eyes lifted, meeting Justin’s.

  Justin approached the minister. “I’m sorry about what happened to your daughter,” he said.

  Wilson sat up and nodded in Justin’s direction. “Thank you.”

  “Is she okay?”

  The pastor sighed. “It’s hard to tell. So much has happened tonight, I don’t know if it’s hit her, yet.” Wilson rotated his head toward the corridor leading to the emergency room beds. “She’s in there with him now. I guess she really cares for the boy.”

  “It might be hard for you to believe, but Curt is a really great guy.”

  Wilson folded his arms. “You know, I might believe that easier than you think now.”

  Samuel Wilson appeared from another hallway and approached his father. He locked eyes with Justin. Though his stare contained less defiance and open hostility this time, it was still intense. His arrival seemed to threaten Justin’s already tenuous conversation with the reverend.

  The younger Wilson cleared his throat. “It was my porn,” he said, keeping his voice low, lest the few other people in the waiting room hear this shameful admission. “It was my porn on your browser history. I used your computer.”

  Caleb Wilson jerked his head toward Samuel. Clearly, this was news to Wilson. Justin exhaled. This confession also seemed intended for Justin’s benefit, so he knew the truth in no uncertain terms. Samuel’s dalliance into internet porn had caused his father so much trouble. A lecture or rebuke felt imminent and deserved
.

  “I’m sorry.” Samuel bowed his head. “I failed. I should’ve come clean. I was embarrassed…”

  The features on Caleb Wilson’s face softened. “We all fail, Son. That’s why we need Jesus. But God will show us grace if we humble ourselves and repent. The important thing is to get back on the path of righteousness, again.”

  Samuel nodded, though this message of forgiveness did not instantly dispel the shame still evident in the young man’s features.

  Justin cleared his own throat. “Things have gotten out of hand over the last week or so. I’m sorry for my part in that. I know we won’t agree completely on what’s right and wrong, but maybe we can agree on enough to find a little patch of common ground?”

  Reverend Wilson sucked in his lips and nodded. “Perhaps we can. We’ve coexisted for so long in this town, already.”

  Justin leaned forward. “This doesn’t mean I don’t find some of your beliefs harmful or dangerous.”

  “Nor I you,” Wilson replied.

  “And I can’t promise that everyone who views the world through a similar lens as me won’t think you’re the devil. But I promise to at least listen to you before I tell you why you’re wrong.” A small smirk spread across Justin’s lips.

  The reverend almost smiled. “I’ll do my best to pay you the same courtesy.”

  Samuel’s feelings about this conversation proved difficult to read. He seemed too plagued by remorse to offer much of a response at the moment. Still, Justin had a feeling now that Samuel had publicly confessed his sins, he might be easier to deal with, less self-righteous.

  Justin nodded once more at the reverend before moving toward the admissions desk to find out where Curt was. Mutual respect seemed like a stretch. But Justin could acknowledge Wilson’s humanity. Beneath all his religious bluster was a man who loved his family and wanted the best for Beaumont.

  Granted, that was the major problem: Justin and Wilson had deeply conflicting ideologies on how to make the world a better place. Still, he remembered what Matt often said: people are doing the best they can, even when they’re wrong. To Matt, recognizing the humanity of his adversaries was the first essential ingredient to possibly changing their minds.

  Curt sat upright on the hospital bed. A bandage had secured the wound on his arm. Doctors were just about done with him. His mother had ducked out to take care of the paperwork when another figure appeared at his door. Hannah stood on the threshold, hands folded and head bowed.

  “Hi,” she said, her voice uncertain.

  The tone reminded him of the night in his backyard, when she’d unsuccessfully tried to explain why she’d shown up to watch the meteor shower with him.

  “Hi,” he responded, transparently excited she’d come to visit him.

  “Are you okay?”

  He shrugged. “This isn’t much. Thanks to my mom. I was actually more concerned about you. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, I think,” she replied, possibly glossing over the trauma she’d experienced that night.

  “I was so scared when I found you...” Curt started, before realizing that recreating the scene of the crime might dredge up a lot of pain for Hannah. Maybe it was better if she didn’t remember.

  She smiled wanly as she advanced a few steps into the room. “I was so scared when I saw you and all that blood.”

  “Well, that makes two of us,” Curt admitted.

  It took him an anxious minute after the gunshots to realize that Jake had taken the worst of the showdown with his mother and he’d only suffered a minor injury.

  Hannah swiped her cheek. “I can’t help but think this is my fault.”

  Curt almost laughed. “I can’t help thinking what happened to you was my fault.”

  Hannah took another step closer. “But it’s not. It’s not your fault.”

  “Just like what happened to me isn’t your fault.”

  Curt reached out his hand; Hannah took it. She caressed his fingers.

  “When I was laying on the floor, thinking this might be it for me, I thought about my life. Kate. My mom. And you. I thought a lot about you.” He stared into her brown eyes. “I saw your face in my mind and hoped you’d be okay.”

  “Not Alexis?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  Curt shook his head slowly. “No. That relationship is old news. No matter what happens between me and you.”

  Hannah swallowed hard and brushed the hair out of her face with her free hand. “I’m sorry about what I said about your father. About what happens when we die.” Her voice tremored. “After everything that’s happened, I don’t know what I believe about that.” She looked away.

  Curt brushed her cheek with his hand. “Neither do I.”

  He chose to allow her last statement to remain ambiguous. It was okay to say you didn’t know. His father had lived by that mantra.

  “I don’t know what happens after this, Hannah. But I know this moment exists. And I’m glad you’re a part of it.”

  She leaned toward him, making him wish he could gather her in his arms like at the softball field. His injury made her tentative, though Hannah circled over to his good side and dropped into a chair next to him.

  Curt smiled at her. “The Perseids meteor showers are coming in August. Would you like to watch them with me?”

  Hannah nodded as she wiped tears from her own face. “Yeah, that would be really nice. As long as I get to see you again before then.”

  His smile spread wider. “I think that can be arranged.”

  39

  The Perseids

  A little over two months after Hannah had been drugged and Curt had been shot, life had largely settled down in Beaumont. Jake was out on bail, awaiting trial on various charges that Hannah couldn’t remember. She hadn’t seen him since that night. Greg was also out on bail awaiting trial. Hannah had a restraining order against him.

  The furor over the Ten Commandments monument had died down. This wasn’t to say no bad blood existed. The Tasker brothers still drove their ludicrously big pickup around town, often flying the confederate flag. But for the most part, any existing ill will between people was expressed in dirty looks or shaking heads.

  The peak of the Perseids meteor shower finally arrived. It was a perfect night for watching a meteor shower. The new moon provided a beautiful contrast to see the Milky Way in all its splendor, besides any meteors that happened to flare across the sky. Hints of Autumn had crept into the air, creating a deliciously cool respite to some of the blistering summer weather of late. The temperatures encouraged closeness, for people to huddle together. Not that Curt and Hannah needed much prompting in that department.

  They lay on a blanket outside his house, her hands grazing his clothed chest and their bodies pressed together as they cast their eyes skyward. Hannah hadn’t even snuck out this time. Her father knew where she was. Though not thrilled with the arrangement and most likely still awake, pacing his bedroom, Caleb Wilson had consented to his daughter’s relationship with Curt, trusting her to make good decisions.

  Hannah looked Curt in the eyes and moved her hands to cup his face. She smiled, a mixture of mischief and anxiety. This was a moment she’d been waiting for yet also putting off all night.

  “What’s your deal?” Curt asked.

  She closed her eyes, leaned in, and pecked him on the lips, retreating as suddenly as she advanced. Curt looked as shocked as Hannah felt that she’d actually pulled this maneuver off. Hannah placed two fingers on her lips as if gauging the physical impact the kiss had brought. Truthfully, the embrace had been so abrupt that it was hard to know how she felt about it. Even so, her heart raced as she waited for him to say something.

  “You just kissed me,” he said.

  She nodded with a slight smile. “I thought about my stance on kissing and decided this was okay.”

  Hannah had been debating whether or not to kiss Curt for weeks, after numerous near misses. Sometimes she pulled back at the last second; sometimes he did. In the end
, it wasn’t a reconsideration of biblical exhortations on pre-marital sexual contact or any other reason based proposition that compelled Hannah to cross this seemingly insurmountable boundary. Rather, Hannah had made a simple realization: if she never kissed Curt that summer, she’d regret that more than actually kissing him.

  He gazed at her seriously. “You never asked if it was okay to kiss me.”

  “Well, I figured it would be.”

  He made a ‘tsk, tsk’ sound. “That kind of thinking has gotten a lot of men into trouble over the years.”

  “Fine, I won’t kiss you again,” she teased.

  “Hold on, I didn’t say that. You know, it is possible to kiss for longer than a microsecond.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “It is? I didn’t know that. I’m new to this, you know. Maybe you could show me?”

  “Yeah, I think I could do that.”

  They leaned toward each other for a lingering embrace. He pulled her closer. Though probably a little awkward at first, as the kiss drew on, Hannah got the hang of it. When they came up for air, Curt smiled.

  “Was it everything you’d thought it would be?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t know what it would be.”

  “Wow, I guess I should’ve done better.”

  Hannah giggled. “No. It was right. It was perfect.”

  To prove her point, Hannah bent in for another kiss. This moment would now be burned into her memory. Of course, sitting on the blanket on this clear and cool August night would have stood the test of time, anyway. Punctuating the moment with a kiss only made it sweeter.

  In the end, she was glad her first kiss came here, and not in some awkward exchange in a park as a sixth-grader. Though not standing in the front of a church, saying “I do”, Curt was a worthy partner in this milestone. He respected and cared for her, something he’d proven all summer long. He’d done more conventional things, like bring her flowers. But perhaps the quality she appreciated most was the way he indulged all of her curiosities about the world around them. She asked him all kinds of questions about how the universe worked. If he didn’t know the answer, Curt researched topics until he had something more substantive to report or they investigated it together.