What Comes After – Part Three
Summary:
In the days following the upsetting events that unfolded in Whit’s End, police search for the man who pulled a gun on the ice cream shop and discovery emporium’s two employees. With help from both Connie and Eugene, their attacker is soon brought to justice. But, physical harm wasn’t the only thing the wicked man inflicted in his robbery-gone-wrong. Now, prayers for peace and healing to follow for the resulting trauma and pain that may well stay with them for the years to come.
(If this were an actual Odyssey episode, Paul McCusker would come on to give a pre-episode content/parental warning.)
“Mr. Meltsner,” Fischer began, looking to Eugene. “Describe to me what happened the night of the robbery.” He requested. “Yes, well,” Eugene let out a nervous cough to clear his throat. “When Murray first arrived at the shop, he was rather unassuming. Simply a customer taking a brief respite from his travels for a dish of ice cream.” Fischer nodded as he listened. “I merely treated him as I do any customer to Whit’s End.”
“So, you took no issue with the defendant?” Eugene shook his head ‘no’. “No, sir, I did not. Th-That is, until he um… revealed that he was carrying a firearm on his person.” He added, and from across the courtroom, Eugene didn’t miss Hank Murray’s subtle eye roll as the man shifted a little in his seat. His lawyer quietly said something to him, just as Fischer continued speaking. “Tell me what happened when you realized that the situation was now a hold up?”
“I made my best effort to remain calm, for both mine and my co-worker’s sakes.” Eugene replied. “And I was able to alert the authorities by employing the use of the small button beneath the counter, for the silent alarm.” He explained. “However, I must admit I mistakenly informed Murray of the alarm not long after when asked—after he had taken notice of it…” Fischer hummed. “Did the defendant threaten to harm you had you refused to tell him about the silent alarm?”
“Murray made reference to his six “reasons” he had loaded in his hand gun if I didn’t tell him of my pressing the button, yes.” Another, brief nod from Fischer. “I see…” Hank glared at Eugene, likely not appreciating being quoted of something he’d directly said during the robbery. Eugene, however, wasn’t paying him mind at that moment.
“And so, having pressed the silent alarm, Officer Dan Kern arrived at the scene. Tell me, what happened at that time?” Taking a breath, Eugene briefly hesitated at having to recount this part. “Murray instructed for me to stay down, out of sight behind the counter, alongside him. Meanwhile, Miss Kendall—m-my co-worker—was told to make Officer Dan Kern leave without garnering his suspicion.” He retold. “During her exchange with the officer, Murray kept his firearm out where it was visible.”
“Did he have the weapon pointed at Miss Kendall from behind the counter?”
“No,” Eugene began. “However… I was greatly concerned that he would harm her… should she say the wrong thing.” Fischer raised a brow. “Meaning that he did seem ready to shoot at any given moment following Officer Kern’s arrival?” Eugene nodded, confirming the prosecutor’s question. “Which he then did when she tried to tip Officer Kern off?” Another nod. “Tell me what you did after the defendant opened fire on the officer.”
“Seeing as it was Miss Kendall who had made an attempt to ‘tip off’ Officer Kern, I drew the hasty conclusion that Murray would turn on her next. A-And so, I… tackled him in an attempt to seize the gun from him.” Eugene paused, his brow pinching together as he briefly glanced down. Judge Irving, sitting close by, gave the college student a brief glance of sympathy. Even as he continued to keep his demeanor as neutral as he needed it to be for the task at hand, Fischer did soften his tone slightly for Eugene’s sake, when he then asked, “And what was the result of your attempt?”
“He…”Adjusting his glasses a bit, Eugene cleared his throat again. He slightly shifted his arm in the support brace, as the lingering soreness in his shoulder suddenly felt more prevalent. “… Murray instead turned his attention away from Miss Kendall… firing his weapon at me.” Eugene answered, before subtly giving a glare of his own across to Murray—who was looking frustratingly unremorseful.
“Thank you, Mr. Meltsner.” Fischer promptly gave him a nod. “I have no more questions.”
﹝•••﹞
It was late. Rain was pouring from the dark clouds outside, as the harsh wind mercilessly rattled windows. All of this seemed to add more underlying stress and tension to things as he looked over to the criminal man.
Time felt slowed, and it seemed as if it was just the two of them standing there, behind the soda bar. Facing each other. Eugene took a step back, frantically trying to think of the safest course of action. The other man was holding a loaded weapon—the safety having been clicked off. Chances were that he would shoot somebody at any moment.
Maybe he could tackle the gun from his grip. No gun meant no shots fired. All it would take was for Eugene to make one unpredictable move to throw the other man off, likely guaranteeing his success. It’d be easy. Ram into him, and make an immediate reach for the gun.
Eugene’s expression of stress and fear briefly shifted to something of determination. He took a step forward. And as if he had somehow read his mind, the other man immediately pointed his gun at Eugene. A muffled shot rang in his ears. “ NO -!”
The ringing continued, his surroundings fading to black. Then the pain settled in again. He suddenly felt like he was being pulled backwards. He could barely move, being physically restrained by an invisible force. He struggled against it, desperate to regain his bearings.
The ringing continued, growing louder in his ears. It quickly shifted to a fast, yet consistent beeping sound. As if a digital alarm was sounding from a nearby machine, or monitor, perhaps. There was a flurry of voices around him, but he couldn’t decipher what any of them were saying. Except for maybe one voice.
“…-gene…!”
Becoming more frantic in his struggle, Eugene’s breathing became faster. He was unable to draw full breaths, too worried over getting free from whatever was pinning him down—while simultaneously trying to ignore the sharp pain in his shoulder.
There was a faint smell in the air. It smelled something of disinfectant. Like a hospital room. And the constant beeping which continued on could only be medical monitors. Why was he in the hospital again? Why couldn’t he wake up, or even move to sit upright? Eugene was near hyperventilating, now.
A firm shake, along with someone loudly shouting his name seemed to finally break Eugene from his delirium. With a sharp gasp, he bolted upright. His eyes were wide in fear, as they darted about the dark, out-of-focus room. Someone was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands still planted firmly on his upper arm and uninjured shoulder. “ Eugene ! Can you hear me?!”
“I-I…!” He was shaking, still panting short breaths. Eugene brought a hand up to rub at his eyes. He was met with an unexpected wetness on his cheeks. He shook his head, then roughly shoved the other person’s hands away from him. “Alright, alright! You’re awake, it’s okay!” Despite the darkness in the room working against his poor eyesight, Eugene was relieved to recognize the voice of who was addressing him. “Wh-Whit…?”
“Yeah,” Whit confirmed. “It’s me. Eugene, listen to me, do you know where you are?” Taking a moment, Eugene tried to subconsciously slow his breathing—finally beginning to take fuller breaths. “Um… Yes, yes…” He answered, squinting to try and see at least somewhat beyond the blurry silhouettes of the nearby furniture. “I-I’m… in your guest room.”
“You are.” Whit said, breathing a sigh in brief relief. He shook his head a little. “You were having quite the nightmare, it seemed.” Closing his eyes, Eugene nodded. “.. Care to maybe tell me what it was about?” Whit asked him, even though he could make a well educated guess as to what it was likely about. There was a small pause. Eugene shook his head ‘no’. “Okay, then.”
Giving Eugene a light, yet grounding squeeze on his good shoulder, Whit then said, “Do you think you can go back to sleep?” Exhaling only slightly less shakily than a moment ago, Eugene answered quietly, “… I believe so, yes.” Whit hummed. “Alright. Sleep well, then. We’ve got a bit of a busy day tomorrow.” He reminded him. “I shall… hopefully, anyhow.” Eugene replied, just before a yawn escaped him. “Do you need anything before I go?”
“No, sir.”
“Right, well, just let me know if you do.” Eugene gave a nod. Getting up from the edge of the bed, Whit quietly sighed. “Goodnight, Eugene.” He said. Then, he took his leave of the guest room. Though, Eugene didn’t lay back down to sleep until a near half hour afterwards.
It was the early hours of the morning when Eugene eventually drifted back to sleep for the remaining hours of the night, thankfully without being awoken by another nightmare.
﹝•••﹞
A small bell rang out its quaint chime as the door brushed it upon being opened. Walking into the parlor with Eugene at his side, Whit paused. He glanced around. The tables were all cleared, except some had been shoved to the side. In their absence, though, each surface had collected a thin layer of dust. And on the tiled floor, dried, muddy footprints were still clearly visible. Whit hummed.
Clearing his throat, Eugene hesitantly spoke up. “Mr. Whittaker,” He began. “Will er… Will we need to clean up behind the counter, by chance…?” Whit blinked. “Oh no, that’s been handled.” Upon hearing that, Eugene seemed relieved. “Good.” Looking back over the parlor, Whit went on. “We will certainly need to clean up a bit before opening the shop.”
“Shall I go retrieve the cleaning supplies?” Whit shook his head ‘no’. “No, we aren’t doing that today.” He told Eugene. “For right now, I just wanted to run a few check of the inventions upstairs. Just make sure everything is working alright.” Eugene nodded and hummed. “I see.” Turning away from the Ice Cream Parlor, Whit went over to the staircase. Eugene followed.
Arriving upstairs, Whit said, “I want to start with the train set, first.” He glanced at Eugene. “It’s been due for a recalibration, anyways.” Eugene gave a nod in confirmation. “That it was, to which I regret to say I hadn’t had the opportunity to do so, yet…” Whit shook his head a little. “It’s alright, Eugene.” He assured him. “Now is the perfect time to get it done.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.” Heading over to the train set’s table, Whit kneeled down next to the control panel. He gestured to another spot at the table. “Would you put one of the locomotives on the track please, Eugene?” Doing as Whit asked, Eugene went over to place one of the remote control trains on the track. It ‘clicked’ into place on the track. Having switched the panel on, Whit pressed one of the small switches to drive the train forward. However, nothing happened. “Huh.”
“Here,” Eugene began. He picked up the train, and went to place it on a track closer to the control panel. Another small click was heard. “Try now, perhaps?” Whit pressed the switch again. Still nothing. His eyes narrowed a bit, and he scratched his chin. “Check the train itself, maybe.” Picking the train up again, Eugene looked it over. Outwardly, nothing seemed to be wrong with it. “Maybe I ought to check the battery inside.”
“That might be the issue,” Whit agreed. He then stood up from his kneeling position. “You can go grab one of the screw drivers from Inventor’s Corner. Those ones should work.” Eugene nodded, going over to the corner of small wooden tables and child friendly tools set on them.
While Eugene searched for the proper screwdriver, Whit went about testing another one of the trains. He picked up a deep green locomotive, placed it on the track, and returned to the control panel. Whit pressed the corresponding switch. Unlike the first train, this one rolled forward with its small, battery-powered engine whirring. Whit smirked. He then paused, taking a moment to yawn.
“… Are you perchance tired, Mr. Whittaker?” Glancing over his shoulder, Whit saw Eugene walking back to the train table—both the train and a screwdriver in his hand. He shook his head a little. “No,” Whit answered. “Well, maybe a little, but it’s okay-“ Eugene accidentally interrupted him. “My apologies…” Whit raised a brow. “‘Apologies’? For what, Eugene?”
“For waking you… last night.” Eugene explained. “No doubt it’s contributing to your fatigue this morning.” Turning his attention away from the trains for a minute, Whit shook his head ‘no’. “Don’t apologize, Eugene.” He began. “There’s really no need for it, now.” Eugene said nothing, allowing for Whit to continue on. “And anyhow, I had already been awake for a glass of water. Then, I heard you having an awful nightmare, and went to see if you were alright.”
“Thank you… however you didn’t need to do that, Mr. Whittaker.” Eugene told him. Whit quietly sighed a little. “But, wasn’t that part of the reason I offered you to stay in my home?” Whit instead asked, as if proving a point. Eugene blinked. “While you’re staying with me, I’ll be making sure you’re alright. Both physically,” He placed a reassuring hand on Eugene’s uninjured shoulder. “And emotionally.”
Swallowing a small lump in his throat, Eugene briefly smiled in gratitude. “Again, thank you.” Whit returned the smile, however just as briefly. “Now, then. If it’s okay my asking, would you like to talk about that nightmare you had?” He wondered. “I know that talking these things out can always help.” Thinking for a moment, Eugene looked away—tapping his foot a couple times as he thought. Whit then added, “If you wrather not, then we’ll just continue focusing on the train set for now.”
“N-No, I…“ Eugene hesitated. Whit patiently waited to hear what he would say. Sighing, Eugene’s expression fell as he looked downward. In a small voice, he said, “… It was awful, Mr. Whittaker…” Whit pulled up a few of the chairs from beside the train set—moving one over for Eugene to sit on. After the two of them sat down, Whit then noted. “It seemed like it was,” He sympathized. “What happened in the nightmare?”
“Well,” Eugene took a breath, collecting his thoughts. “I was… here, at the shop. Behind the counter.” He began. “It was almost as if… as if I was transported back to the night of the hold up.” Whit subtly raised a brow. “‘Almost’?” Eugene continued. “Unlike the other night, it was only Hank Murray and I in the room… a-and he had his gun.” His grip of the items in his hand slightly tightened a bit, as he grew tense. “I remember thinking of what manner would best result in me disarming him. However, I was unable to act fast enough… I was starring down the barrel of that mad man’s gun, and he… he fired.”
“Oh my, that’s…” Whit’s eyes had widened a bit. “That wasn’t when I awoke.” Eugene clarified. “When he fired his gun, everything turned to black… and I suddenly felt as though I was being restrained to a bed…” Whit was trying to figure out what the next part Eugene was retelling could be of. “I could hear medical monitors… like the ones in my hospital room… and there was a flurry of different voices all speaking at once, some maybe to me, but I’m unsure…”
“Ah,” Whit hummed. “Your bout of delirium you had while still in the hospital.” He guessed. Eugene half shrugged. “Following that, you shook me awake.” He concluded. Sitting up a bit straighter, Whit thrummed his fingers a top his knee. “That certainly does sound terrible…” He agreed. “I’m sorry, Eugene.” Eugene shook his head a little. “Though I’m unhappy to admit, this wasn’t my first nightmare following the events of the robbery. It was, however, the most vivid .”
“That explains why it had you so distressed.” Whit easily deduced. “Am I right?” Hesitantly, Eugene nodded.
“Tell me,” Whit began. “And don’t feel you need to spare my feelings, but does being in the shop maybe bring you back to the night of the robbery? Or does it even bring you stress; anxiety even?” Eugene looked up. “No, no of course not! I don’t see why it should do, anyhow.” Whit hummed, believing that answer. “What about this, are you maybe afraid of another situation like this happening again?” To that question, Eugene took a second to think. “I don’t believe so…?”
“You don’t sound so sure,” Whit noticed. “Well, I can’t think of why I would need to be afraid of that happening again.” Eugene confessed. “It’s not as though Hank Murray can harm us, now.” With a hum, Whit shook his head. “Of course he can’t,” Whit agreed. “But, more generally speaking..?” He asked him again. “I believe… it’s more the uncertainty… regarding being safe from another robbery.”
“I see…” Whit said. Eugene stifled a bit of a yawn, shaking his head. “… It’s a feeling that I find difficult to ‘shake’—so to speak.” Whit nodded. “I can’t say as I blame you, Eugene.” He told him. “This isn’t the sort of thing that’s often heard of in a town like Odyssey, much less something anyone would imagine happening here, at Whit’s End.” Whit continued, sounding nothing short of sympathetic as he spoke. “And if I’m being honest, it’s also shaken me a bit. Since I also believed you and Connie to have been safe that night.”
“Oh… of course…” Eugene said with a bit of a donning look. Whit placed a hand on his knee in a reassuring manner. “But know this,” He began. “Know that my prayer is for total safety for everyone who walks into the shop. For you and Connie. And I want you to know that, as frightening as this all has been, God’s in control. I pray every day that he gives the two of you peace.” Eugene’s gaze fell. “… In only he can, anyhow.”
Silence fell for a moment. Whit waited to hear what Eugene would say in reply, but for that moment, he said nothing. The quiet was barely broken, when near under his breath, Eugene simply said, “… if you believe he can… I suppose” Whit sighed, but nodded. “I do.” He affirmed with no doubt.
With a blink, Eugene glanced off briefly. He then looked back down to his hand, remembering he was still holding the train and mini screwdriver. He stood up, and took a shaky breath to steady himself. “May… May we continue with the train set, please, Mr. Whittaker?” Whit also stood up. Instead of a reply to his question, Eugene instead saw Whit’s outstretched arms. He took another shaky breath, accepting the hug. While avoiding any pressure to Eugene’s should, Whit held his young friend in an embrace for what felt like minutes. However long he needed to, if only to wholly support the emotionally turmoiled college student.
﹝•••﹞
Tapping his chin in thought, the prosecutor finished skimming over his papers of notes. It was another day of the ongoing trial. Fischer made his way back over to the stand, where Connie sat. “Now then,” He began. “Continuing the timeline of events from what your co-worker last testified, tell the court what happened, Miss Kendall.” Connie mumbled a very quiet “um”, as she thought. Her nerves were doing her no favors, as she found the man’s question to be unclear. “Can… Can you repeat the question?”
“Of course,” Fischer assured her. “More simply put, what happened following the defendant shooting first Officer Kern, then your co-worker?” Mouthing an “oh”, Connie subtly cleared her throat. “R… Right. Well, um, after Hank shot Eugene, he sorta like- eh- like he pushed him onto the floor. A-And I wanted to see if he was okay, but I couldn’t.”
“Why couldn’t you?” Connie continued. “Because I didn’t want… to be the next person he shot.” She answered. Fischer raised a brow. “And, was he going to shoot you?” Connie nodded. “He was checking his gun and everything. And when I ran to the door, I heard a gunshot. B-But it missed me, and fired into the wall.” Fischer nodded once. “How many attempts did the defendant make trying to shoot you, Miss Kendall?” Connie glanced off, trying her best to remember. “Just… Just once. I think.”
“He made no effort to pursue you when you ran?” Connie shook her head ‘no’. Fischer hummed, continuing onto his next question. “You said that after the defendant began firing was when you took the chance to run. Where did you run to, exactly?” Barely even glancing in Hank’s direction, Connie answered, “The police car that was parked out front. I hid behind it… where I hoped he wouldn’t see me.”
There was a short pause after her reply. Likely due to Fischer forming his next question he wanted to ask Connie. Giving her a pointed look, he then posed said question. “Tell me,” He began, sounding curious. “A moment ago you said that you “didn’t want to be the next person he shot”. Now, you did say that he checked his weapon before turning to you, however, before he even began shooting; did the defendant threaten harm to you at any point during the robbery?” Shifting a little in her seat, Connie thought for a moment. “I mean… other than the threat he made over the silent alarm, I don’t remember him threatening me.”
“But it does appear as though you were frightened that he would harm you, correct?” Connie nodded. “I mean… yeah, because it was me who didn’t do what he asked… so I figured I’d be the one he turned on…” Fischer quietly hummed in a thoughtful way. From where he sat, Hank was doing his best at masking his smug look—even though he likely wanted to comment on what Connie had just said. “… It’s no wonder things escalated, after.” Connie sheepishly added. There was an odd look of guilt about her. Fischer didn’t take note of this, while Judge Irving, however, did. The judge opted to make no comment at that moment.
The prosecutor turned his attention over to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” He addressed. “Sitting before you in the stand is a frightened, young lady who knew that she would not have been spared by the defendant.” Fischer had a very confident look on his face as he spoke to the group. “And had she not reacted when she did, I believe things could have ended terribly differently. All this can only be caused by one man who shows no mercy to get what he wants.”
There was a brief pause, while the jury listened closely as Fischer had spoken to them. He briefly looked over first at Hank, who appeared unsympathetic. Fischer then turned to glance in Connie’s direction, who meanwhile had her arms crossed in front of herself. Almost as if she was holding herself together. She had her attention briefly fixated elsewhere in the courtroom. Looking back at the jury with a determined expression about him, Fischer spoke again. “The defendant’s actions alone should be enough to convict him on the exact crime he has committed.” He told them, going on to continue with his argument. (Maybe make scene longer.)
﹝•••﹞
The sound of a metal spoon gently clattering against the inside of a ceramic mug caught Connie’s ear as she joined her mother in the kitchen. Taking the spoon from her mug of coffee, June turned her attention to her daughter. “Good morning, dear.”
“Morning, Mom.” She greeted in return, going about getting some orange juice from the fridge. “How’d you sleep?” June asked. She took a sip of her warm coffee as Connie answered, “I slept alright.” June hummed, and Connie took a glass from one of the cabinets. She poured the juice into the glass, before then replacing the carton in the fridge.
After then putting a few slices of bread in the toaster for herself, Connie saw her mother waving her over to sit. She did so, as the small timer on the toaster silently ticked away. “So, you’re going to be helping Mr. Whittaker at the shop today.” Connie nodded. “Yep. He wants to open it up again in a few days, and we just have to make sure everything is all set.” June smiled. “That’s great to hear,” She said. “Are you looking forward to working at the shop again?”
“I do, actually.” Connie smiled a little. “I know it hasn’t exactly been that long, but I miss the customers—the kids, especially.” June let out a small laugh. “I’m sure the kids have missed you guys, too.” She commented. “It’ll certainly be great for the shop to be open again.” Nodding, Connie replied, “You can say that again.”
The toaster suddenly popped. Connie got up to go finish making her toast, while her mom continued. “You aren’t nervous, or stressed about going back?” June wondered. Connie gave a slight shrug. “Not really, no.” She said to her. “Not shaken up still?” June further asked. Connie shook her head ‘no’. “Really?”
“Really, Mom.” Connie insisted. Pausing from buttering her slices of toast, Connie looked over to her mom. “God’s giving me comfort to, I guess, kinda heal emotionally… from what happened.” She explained. June gave her a curious look. “I don’t really get it.” She confessed with a shrug. “ But , you do look like you’re doing better than you were. So, I won’t discredit that.” Connie quietly sighed. “I’m just happy my baby is doing good, now.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Connie smiled, going to join her mom at the kitchen table again—her plate of toast in hand. Not a moment after sitting down beside her, Connie was pulled into a side hug by June. Her mom pressed a kiss to her cheek, just before Connie reflexively moved back. “ Mom …!” June simply laughed. “I love you, Connie.” Stifling a laugh of her own, Connie returned the sentiment. “Love you, too, Mom.”
﹝•••﹞
His hands were loosely clasped together as he rested his forearms atop his knees. Sitting on the porch steps of his shop, Whit was quietly pondering to himself. Though cloudy, it was a comfortable temperature outside. So, instead of “hiding” away in his office to think, Whit went outside to sit on the steps. He was waiting on Connie at the same time, while also remaining easily available should Eugene—who was currently in the Ice Cream Parlor—need his help with anything.
Whit sighed to himself. He shook his head a little, his ponderings not exactly helping in his understanding of the curious subject on his mind. A hand came up to scratch his chin. “… But, why would she say it like that ?” He quietly asked himself. His eyes were narrowed a bit, indicative of his mixed thoughts.
He almost missed the sound of someone making her way up on the sidewalk. “Hey, Whit.” Connie greeted, pulling Whit from his thoughts. He blinked a few times, looking over to her—smiling. “Hello, Connie.” Connie returned the smile as she walked up to the porch steps. “How are you?” With a half nod, the teenager shrugged. “I’m doing okay, I guess.”
“Happy to hear.” Whit told her. Connie glanced over his shoulder towards the door, briefly. “Is Eugene inside?” She wondered. “Yes. I have him checking the appliances behind the counter, just to be sure everything is working good.” Whit told her. “Alright. Should I just go ahead with cleaning the tables, then?” Connie then asked. “Well, actually,”
“Yeah?” Whit gestured to the spot next to him on the step. “Before you do that, would it be alright if we talked for a minute?” Connie nodded. “Sure, okay.” Whit gave her a small “thanks” as she sat next to him. “I wanted to ask you about something.” Connie, with a curious expression, looked to Whit. “What’d you wanna ask me about?” She wondered. “About something from the trial.” Whit told her. Trying not to seem too apprehensive, Connie gave a short nod for him to continue.
“When you gave your testimony at the trial, there was something you said that didn’t quite make sense.” Whit began. “Oh yeah…?” Connie asked, a flash of doubt showing on her face. “You know I tried to answer all the prosecutor’s questions as best I could.” Whit nodded. “I know you did, Connie. That’s not what I meant.” Connie raised a brow and tilted her head a little. “Then, what…?” Whit paused a moment, making sure to word his question aptly. “After you said why you were afraid Hank Murray would shoot you during the robbery, I remember you mentioning something along the lines of it being “no wonder things escalated after”.”
“Yeah, I guess I did say that.” Connie confirmed. “I may be wrong here, but it almost seemed as if you meant to say that it was your fault that things got worse.” Whit noted. Connie’s gaze fell, and in a way, almost gave him all the answer he needed. “ Was that what you meant?” Whit wondered. Mindlessly fidgeting with the hem of her sweater’s sleeve, Connie gave a small shrug. “I… I guess so, yeah.” She answered.
Placing a hand on her shoulder, Whit shook his head. “Connie, no-” Looking up at him again, Connie now seemed upset instead of confused. “Look, I know you’re going to tell me that it wasn’t my fault, but I can’t just accept that it isn’t.” She suddenly began. “What I was supposed to do when Officer Kern showed up, was to give him the “oh you know how Whit hates coffee!” line, but I didn’t do it! I instead did the dumbest thing that I could have and tried to outright tell him that there was a robber in the shop!”
“Listen, Connie-”
“And you know what happened because of my mistake?” Connie ever briefly hesitated. Then, she shook her head. “Officer Kern got hurt, and Eugene almost died !” She took a second to try and calm herself down, to keep from raising her voice anymore. “And all of it could’ve just been avoided if I had only said what you told me to. That was the point of the coffee line, anyways, and I blew it…!”
By the end of her outburst, Whit could see the watery glint in Connie’s eyes. She rubbed at them before any tears could be shed. Whit gently squeezed her shoulder. Having heard her say all of this suddenly gave context to the odd things Whit had noticed in Connie’s behavior as of late. This sense of self-pity that seemed to be about her. How she almost seemed to be avoiding Eugene for, what he previously thought to be, no reason. It made sense now. All of it.
“Connie,” Whit began. “I completely understand why you feel almost responsible for what happened here that night.” He told her. “Yes, I did tell you about the coffee line I had in place for this very situation. But, you know what? It’s one thing to know how to react in a situation when you aren’t presently living that situation.” Whit explained. Connie listened quietly, fidgeting again with her sweater’s sleeve. “So you forgot completely about the line, and I understand why. Officer Kern was there, and you very well trusted that he could help right then, in that very instant.”
“… But, I still shouldn’t have told him, Whit…” Whit shook his head a little. “Honest mistakes like that happen, Connie,” He said. “You can’t be expected to do everything perfect all the time.” Connie’s gaze fell a bit.
“And what’s more,” Whit went on. “You’re not responsible for the hold up happening in the first place.” He stated, point blank. “I never want you to ever carry the feeling of being responsible for another person’s decisions or actions.” Letting go of her sweater sleeves, Connie crossed her arms. “We are each accountable for our own actions, and for the consequences that come with them. Which means another person’s decisions can’t be put on us. Do you understand?” She nodded. “Then, you understand that none of this is your fault, don’t you?”
“… Yes.” Connie quietly said, before speaking up a bit more. “Y-Yeah… Yeah, I get it.” Pulling Connie into a side hug, Whit told her, “Please, just let go of that guilt.” As Connie reciprocated the hug, Whit could feel her begin to shake again. He closed his eyes and held her. “ Lord ,” Whit quietly began. “I bring to you your dear child, Connie… You know more than any of us this horrible guilt that’s been weighing on her… This guilt that isn’t for her to bear… I ask you, please , lift this weight from her, God…”
﹝•••﹞
Having already checked every appliance that was in the kitchen of the Ice Cream Parlor, Eugene had resorted to ensuring the glasses beneath the counter were all dusted. Since, of course, having had no customers in the last several days, dust accumulation seemed inevitable. He’d taken a rag from the faucet in the sink before heading back behind the counter to dust everything off when the little bell above the door rang.
Eugene stopped what he was doing, and turned to see Connie and Whit entering the building. He gave her a smile. “Greetings and salutations to you, Miss Kendall.” Connie returned the smile, but stayed quiet for a beat longer instead of giving her own simple greeting in return. Whit stayed behind, standing beside one of the tables in the parlor as he watched Connie walking back towards the counter. Eugene, too watched her, with a curious expression.
Connie’s stride came to a stop once she was standing in front of him. She took a small breath, her posture relaxing a bit. “Eugene?” Eugene raised a brow. “Yes, Miss Kendall?” To his surprise, Connie held her arms out, offering a hug. Though still puzzled, Eugene accepted. While keeping her friend’s injured shoulder in mind, Connie wrapped her arms around Eugene—Eugene doing the same with his one free arm.
After their hug, Connie stepped back. The smile on her face, Eugene realized, was the most genuine one he’d seen from her ever since the hold up. It had him also smiling, as he seemed to guess that whatever it was that seemed to have been previously affecting her was no more. He silently wondered how, exactly, that could be, all things considered. “I just wanted to say that I’m so, so relieved, and grateful that you’re okay.” Connie finally said. “O-Oh… You do?”
“Yeah, I do.” She said, “Well, eh, thank you… Though, I believe you’ve told me your sentiment already, Miss Kendall.” Half nodding, Connie shrugged. “Maybe. But, I didn’t really get the chance to say it to you properly. Without it being—I dunno—awkward, I guess.” She explained to him. “Ah.” Eugene hummed. “If I may ask, why exactly were our past few interactions ‘awkward’?” Connie sighed, and shook her head a little. “… I think because I felt really terrible that you’d gotten hurt, and that the robbery had gone the way it had.”
“And, why so?”
“Because, I kinda felt like part of it was my fault it happened, when really, it wasn’t.” Hearing that, Eugene tilted his head a little. “Oh… I apologize that you felt that way…” Connie lightly waved him off. “Thanks, but it’s okay now,” She said. “And, well, I guess what I wanna say here is that I kinda wanna start over.” Connie explained. “As if I’m visiting you for the first time again—even though you aren’t actually in the hospital, anymore.”
“I believe… I follow your meaning,” Eugene said, slowly nodding a little. “This seems as though it’ll be your way of dropping any form of pretense from the robbery, am I correct?” Connie’s eyes narrowed for a second as she processed the question. “Yes… Yeah, that’s it.” She confirmed. “That is good, then.” Eugene said to her.
“And actually,” Connie continued. “I hope it’ll let me be more encouraging to you, as a friend, like I probably could have been doing from the start.” She confessed. “Of course, thank you, Connie.” Eugene answered. “Don’t mention it.” Connie told him. “I’m just glad we can be there for each other like this.” She commented, then looking over at Whit. The older man smiled, chuckling quietly to himself as he finally walked up to the counter. “As am I, I must say.” Eugene agreed. “Admittedly, I wouldn’t expect to be handling the after effects of the robbery all too well had it not been for friends such as yourselves—especially so you, Mr. Whittaker.”
“Dido,” Connie added. “Thanks for looking out for us, Whit.” Whit nodded. “You’re both welcome. I simply saw how you two were in need of support and encouragement, even when you didn’t realize it.” Connie and Eugene briefly exchanged a look of agreement. “And I thank the Lord that I was able to help meet those needs.” Connie’s smile seemed to grow a bit more upon hearing that. “I do too, Whit.” She said.
Though he didn’t exactly want to bring this heartfelt moment to an end just yet, Mr. Whittaker knew that there were still some odd jobs that needed to be finished before the reopening of his shop in just a couple of days. “Now then,” Whit began again, with a light clap of his hands. “Should we get started with cleaning up a bit, here?” Connie’s eyes widened a little, as she let out a small laugh. “Oh, right ! I almost forgot that’s why we’re here in the first place.” Eugene was also chuckling. “Of course it is, Miss Kendall. However, our conversation here was a pleasant bonus.”
“Okay. Connie?” She looked to Whit. “Can you get started with wiping down the tables?” Connie answered with a chipper “yep”, before going about getting the cleaning supplies out. “Eugene, you’re alright to run a check of the inventions in the Bible Room?” To that, Eugene nodded. “Yes sir, Mr. Whittaker!” He replied—walking out from behind the counter and making his way to the stairs. Whit hummed quietly to himself. “I’ll be in the back checking the inventory if either of you need me, alright, Connie?” Setting the spray cleaner down on one of the Parlor’s tables, Connie answered, “Okay, Whit.”
Still smiling, Mr. Whittaker was truly happy to have witnessed what could only be the true start of some healing for his two, young friends. And with this pleasant feeling of happiness, he went ahead and left the main room of the Parlor and into the kitchen—the double doors swaying behind him.
﹝•••﹞
Everyone sitting in the courtroom was keeping quiet in their seats while Judge Irving spoke. Whit was sitting beside both Connie and Eugene on one side of the room, while Hank Murray was sitting with his lawyer on the other. The man looked a bit too nonchalant for their liking, but for the moment, the three chose to ignore his haughty attitude in favor of hearing what the final ruling was going to be.
Turning to look towards the jury, Judge Irving asked them, “Will the ladies and gentlemen of the jury please present their verdict?” A woman stood up from her seat, holding a paper which had the verdict statement printed. “We the jury find the defendant guilty on all counts;” She began. “Armed robbery, assault on a police officer, and attempted murder in the second degree.” Murray scowled at the woman, though she paid him no mind. Judge Irving nodded in clear agreement, and the prosecutor couldn’t help his small smirk of victory upon hearing this verdict.
The judge turned his attention to Hank Murray. “On these charges, I hereby sentence you, Hank Murray, to eight years in county prison with the possibility of parole.” At that, the javel came down, marking the end of the court case.
Whit, Connie and Eugene briefly exchanged looks with one another, before the three looked over to see Hank Murray being escorted out of the room by a couple police officers. Everyone who’d been attending the trial stood up from their seats and began filing out of the room, while another officer came by to politely escort the three the way they came in. It was finally over. The terrible hold up could now, truly, be put behind them.
Whit held his arms around both Connie and Eugene’s shoulders as they left the courthouse. They all felt as though a weight had been lifted, and it felt almost freeing. As though they now only had the days ahead to look forward to, instead of another stressful day in court—in the presence of Hank Murray. The three each had a small smile of relief when they walked out of the courthouse, being met with the warm sun in the bright, blue, cloudless sky.
﹝•••﹞
Whit’s End was full of hustle and bustle once more. Judging by the excitement the customers had—well, the kids had—the shop’s re-opening couldn’t have been a minute sooner. In the Ice Cream Parlor, Whit and Connie were working together to serve everyone their ice creams and sodas, while Eugene was upstairs overlooking the inventions, such as the displays in the Bible room and the Imagination Station, while they were in use.
“Thanks, Mr. Whittaker!” Jimmy said, happily sliding his fudge sundae closer to himself. “You’re welcome, Jimmy. And, here you go, George.” George Barclay smiled and nodded, taking the soda he’d ordered. “Thanks, Whit.” Whit returned the smile. “Don’t mention it.” Taking a sip of his soda, George took a look around the shop. “I’m glad to see Whit’s End open again. You can definitely tell folks have missed it.”
“You certainly can say that again,” A new voice agreed. They looked over to see Captain O’Ryan walking over to join them. “Well, good morning, Captain.” Whit greeted him. “Mornin’ to you, Whit.” Sporting a curious look, Jimmy wondered, “Why’re you here?” Sitting on a barstool beside George, Captain O’Ryan looked over at the boy. “Oh, I just came by to say hello, and to have m’self a cup of coffee.” He replied. Hearing this, Connie chimed in with, “I’ll get it for you. Is it ‘to go’?”
“No, I’ll drink it here. I’m off duty for the moment, y’see.” Connie nodded, going about grabbing a ceramic mug. “You got it.” The police captain smiled. “Thank ya kindly, lass.” Connie took the pot of coffee, and poured the hot liquid into the mug. She then went on to add some cream and sugar to keep it from tasting too bitter. Putting the pot back, she turned to the counter and put the mug down in front of Captain O’Ryan. He grabbed the handle, took a sip, and smiled. “Taste’s good, thank you.”
“Mr. Whittaker?” Eugene called, making his way over from the staircase. He’d garnered Whit’s attention. “Yes, Eugene?” Eugene continued. “I’ve just come to report that all the inventions are functioning properly.” He said happily. “I’m glad to hear it, Eugene.” Whit replied. After taking another drink of his coffee, Captain O’Ryan hummed. “Ah, I see your shoulder’s still healin’?”
“It is, yes,” Eugene answered, subconsciously shifting his arm in the support brace. “How long will you be needin’ that brace, now?” The captain then wondered. “For at least six weeks more, I imagine. Though, Dr. Morton has said that she doesn’t expect my shoulder to fully heal, unfortunately.” Captain O’Ryan quietly tutted, shaking his head a little. “I’m sorry to hear, lad.”
“Thank you,” Eugene answered. “Though, I am hopeful that following up with a physiotherapist will help me regain as much movement as before.” He added, the expression on his face truly matching his optimistic sentiment. Captain O’Ryan nodded. “Well in that case, it ain’t all bad.” Eugene shook his head ‘no’. “It certainly isn’t.”
There was a light clatter of an ice cream dish as Jimmy scraped the remaining fudge from the dish. “Done!” George, along with Whit and O’Ryan, looked over to see that Jimmy had finished his sundae. The boy looked to his dad. “I’m gonna go upstairs for a bit, if it’s okay, Dad.” George chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair a bit. “Sure. But I think there’s only time for one Imagination Station adventure, alright?”
“Okay!” Jimmy replied, excitedly hopping off his stool. “Oh!” Eugene suddenly exclaimed. He turned his attention to Jimmy. “We have added a new program to the Imagination Station while the shop has been closed,” He said. Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Woah! Cool!” Eugene smirked. “ Very ! If you make haste now, you may be able to have a turn in experiencing it!” In his excitement, Jimmy all but dashed to the staircase.
“Your boy’s got quite some enthusiasm, I’ll give you that, George!” O’Ryan commented with amusement, before lifting his mug again to drink. “My thoughts exactly, Captain!” Eugene agreed. George shook his head a little. “You’re telling me.” Whit shrugged, looking over to share a look with Connie, who then shared the look with Eugene. “What can I say,” Whit started. “A kid’s enthusiasm is what I like to see around here!” Connie nodded, her and Eugene then adding, “Exactly!”
“Indubitably!”
“Then, if you’ll permit my sayin’,” O’Ryan began. “Might I make a toast that nothin’ terrible, such as what has happened here, may take this wonderful atmosphere from the kids!” George gladly raised his soda glass. “I’ll toast to that, happily!” As the two toasted, Connie had gotten herself a glass of water. “Me too!” Both men chuckled, but toasted their own drinks with hers. “To a most pleasant future for Whit’s End!” Eugene simply proclaimed, having no drink of his own to toast as he, too, sat at the counter. “Here, here!” Whit replied with a bright smile. “And, may God bless, keep, and use it for his glory!”
“ Amen !” George, O’Ryan and Connie all agreed. The three then all took a drink together. Everyone shared the same feeling of being uplifted as the conversation continued on, which truly brought joy to Whit—seeing as this was one of the things he’d intended the shop for, afterall!
-end-
originally posted on AO3, here
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