Page 86 of Life, Love, and Other Messes

We struggled there for what felt like a long time. There was no way he could do it to me again. No way. I kept trying to yell but my voice felt small. He almost had me to the barn door when I wriggled loose, but when I tried to run, he tackled me onto the grass.

“Get off of my daughter.”

Jackson stumbled upright, so quickly he had a hard time coordinating his arms and legs. I picked myself up almost as fast, and looked back to see my mother standing across the lawn from us. She stood with her legs apart, both hands holding tightly to a Glock nine-millimeter. It was pointed at Jackson.

“Now get away from her.”

Jackson stood frozen in front of the barn, his eyes huge, his hands raised slightly like he was under arrest. He didn’t move, so I ran toward the business entrance, just as far as I dared.

“I want you to leave her alone. Do you understand?”

Jackson’s mouth opened, but he didn’t make a sound.

A shot rang out. My heart plunged to my feet and Jackson wet himself. To my complete shock, the bullet entered the barn about two inches to the left of his right ear. “Do you understand?”

Now, Jackson’s voice was tiny and as high as a seven-year-old’s. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I never want to see you anywhere near her again.”

Jackson gave a desperate look toward the parsonage, then toward the church.

Mom fired a second shot, this time just to the right of his other ear. Then, carefully, carefully, she turned the gun just a fraction of an inch to the left. Her words were slow and deliberate. “Do you understand me, Jackson Hardeman?”

“Yes, ma’am. I swear.”

“Go. Get,” she said, jerking her head to the side. “Now.”

Jackson didn’t wait to be told twice. He ran for the parsonage so fast he tripped up the stairs and stumbled through the door.

I was staring at Mom, just staring. I couldn’t believe what I’d just witnessed. I had no idea she knew how to shoot a gun let alone like that. She walked toward me in a businesslike manner, and held the gun up with two fingers like it was a dirty diaper. “Now put this back wherever you got it. Do you have my keys?”

2024

By the time the sun came up, I was done with most of the tests and had a raw, nauseated feeling in my stomach. Kevin said something about going down to find some breakfast, but I told him I’d hold down the fort, and he dragged Dad down to the cafeteria so he could have a change of scenery.

While they were gone, I examined all the machines and gadgets in the room. I watched Mom’s heartbeat for a while, watched the machine that was breathing for her. So many tubes, cords, wires. I assumed the bandage around her head was because of a laceration, or maybe to keep the swelling down. It reminded me of old soap operas. Old soap operas where people came out of comas just fine, remembering everything and everyone. Well, except for the ones where the person had amnesia.

I Googled head trauma and brain damage. I Googled a lot of things. I realized that I’d forgotten to text Lisa and sent a huge apology. She wrote back that she’d call to see if she could get a spot for Ollie to be boarded when the daycare opened and to keep her updated. She also ended with a heart emoji.

Dad and Kevin were back when the doctor arrived. Nurses had been poking in and out, looking at the machines every half hour or so, but they hadn’t said much. The doctor didn’t say much either, but told us what Kevin said the night before: that he had ordered an MRI to determine the extent of the brain injury. He also suggested we contact any other family members we wanted present.

The nurses wheeled Mom out the door for her MRI around nine. Dad spoke with Mom’s sisters again and then Pastor Hardeman. He was just as deadpan and blunt in that conversation. I couldn’t hear words on the other end, which was probably good. In about an hour, the nurses wheeled Mom back in again. She looked exactly the same as she had before. I wondered if they could keep all those tubes on her in the MRI machine, but I didn’t ask anyone.

Around noon, Mom’s two in-town sisters popped in together to stare at her and say hello to us. They were just leaving when the church receptionist came through the door. I knew what was coming next, and I jumped up, my sights set to duck around Kevin before Pastor Hardeman could notice me. I didn’t get a chance.

“Pastor,” Dad said, sounding a little surprised that he’d shown up.

Pastor Hardeman took up most of the doorway between his hulking frame and the coat he was wearing. “I’m so sorry, John. If I had any idea, I would have stopped by last night.” He took my brother’s hand. “Kevin. I’m so sorry.” Then, he caught sight of me. His nose twitched like he’d noticed a bad smell. “Samantha.”

Kevin sprung into motion. “We were about to go to the cafeteria. Please excuse us…Dad can catch you up.” He beckoned me with one finger. “Sam.”

I closed the door behind us, certain I was going to throw up. “Well, that was festive.”

“I’m almost surprised he came at all.” Kevin pushed the elevator button. “Dad hasn’t been to church since everything blew up.”

“What?”

Kevin shrugged. “Hell, I wouldn’t go if I could get away with it.”