Page 88 of Shattered Dreams

Shaking my head, I took a seat. “I took my maiden name back. It’s Whitman.”

“I don’t blame you. Are you ready to give a statement? Do you need some time?”

“I’m good. Let’s get this over with.”

He nodded and opened his notepad. “What happened here today?”

I took a long drink of the hot coffee, letting the dark bitter brew give me strength.

“Since the divorce, John has mostly behaved. Which was weird. But he had a new girlfriend, and he missed most of his scheduled visitations.” I chuffed out a laugh. “My phone has been blissfully silent. The kids are going to therapy, healing. I was healing.” Sighing, I lifted my cup of coffee again. “About a week or so ago, he started commenting on my social media. Then a couple days after he started texting me and they kept escalating.” I took a drink.

“Did he threaten you?”

Shaking my head, I tapped out a beat on the table. “No. He just kept throwing blame at me. About the divorce, the kids. About his lack of license. Everything was my fault, and I made his life hell.” I shrugged.

“Was that how things went when you were together?”

My head nodded in a big, slow, affirmative motion. “The day I left, I found out my mother was dying. We didn’t have the money for me to come see her. And he wanted to go play cornhole. My dad wired me money. Told me everything was replaceable except me and the four kids at the time. I had Emma two months later. During that time, there were a lot of calls and texts.”

Swallowing, I swiped at a stray tear. “You have no idea how hard it was to not just go back. To just give in and do what I could.”

“What changed?”

“My van died.” The tears fell faster. “And Richard was the tow truck driver, and seeing him made me remember what my life was before I moved away. Then we went to the fair, and I realized the boy who stole my heart when I was a teen still had it.” I wiped my eyes. “And I believed I deserved a better life with a better man.”

“Don’t doubt that.” His voice was firm. “You do.”

“I wish I believed that.” I stood up and paced for a minute. Leaning back against the counter, I looked back over at the officer. “About an hour before he showed up here today, he called and told me he was done being without his family. I hung up, told the kids to clean up, and I cleaned the kitchen. We ate an early lunch here with my dad and I sent the boys to get ready so we could go to Richard’s mom’s house.”

Pointing out the window at the house you could see from the kitchen window, I smiled. “They live there, but with five kids I was going to drive around the block. I put up all the leftovers, put the dishes away and then went to make sure I had enough diapers, clothing, and incidentals in the diaper bag when I heard the knock on the door. I paused to hear who it was, and the boys paused too.”

Standing there, I shook.

This is a bad dream. It has to be.

“Ms. Whitman, maybe you should sit back down?”

Fuck me running. It’s not a dream.

Nodding, I took a seat back at the table, took the last swallow of my coffee. Rubbing my eyes, I looked back at the officer. “I heard his voice, and my skin crawled. Then I heard a thud and my dad cry out in pain. I motioned to the boys to keep quiet. Emma was asleep, and Briar was curled up on the bed. Johnny asked where I was, and my dad said we weren’t there. That’s when we heard the gunshot.”

My whole body shuddered uncontrollably as I relieved the last hour of my life. I wiped the snot on my hand and shook my head. “Sorry.”

“You’re okay.”

Nodding, I pushed on. “I told Harrison to stay in that room no matter what, and I locked the door as I left them. Johnny grabbed me by my hair when I ran to the living room. I wasn’t thinking. I tore myself away and dropped to my dad’s side.”

Looking at my hands, even though they were clean, I still saw blood on them. “I put pressure on the wound and begged him to let me call 9-1-1. He ignored me, rambling on about his petty bullshit unless I moved. When I would try to reach for a phone, he’d aim the gun at me. So, I just held pressure on my dad. I know it was only five or so minutes before Richard got here, but it felt so much longer.”

I looked up, trying to stop the flow of tears. “He took the focus off me. I heard someone yell clear, and he mouthed the kids were safe. I don’t even know how they knew what room the kids were in.”

“I do.” The officer chuckled. “You should be proud of your boys. Your oldest got the window open and put one of the younger boys through. He ran and hopped the fence and got Parks. His younger brothers got the kids out and back to their mom’s.”

“My boys?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I am proud. After that, Richard and Johnny had their mini brawl and then the police and ambulance were here.”

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