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.)
(A.N. If you have already read this chapter through when it was first posted, go on down until you find the asterisks. I’ve added more for you to read. Thank you!)
The light, little melody he’d been whistling while walking up to the building quietly came to a brief stop. Bernard’s stride did, too. Before even making it up to the rotating doors, he eyed the front entrance of Odyssey General Hospital. Stuffing his hands in his pocket, Bernard continued to hum—walking inside. No sense being hesitant, after all, Whit had called him to tell how Eugene was doing. Things weren’t dire anymore.
But, that had been quite the scare. And Bernard wasn’t even the slightest surprised by the small heart attack he’d nearly had when he’d heard about the hold up—and how Eugene nearly hadn’t survived. True, he didn’t much know the boy outside of their interactions at Whit’s End—even if they were technically family—but that still meant he didn’t enjoy seeing something terrible happen to him. Especially since he’s not a Christian. Bernard had stayed up quite late praying that night Whit had called him.
There was little need to worry now. Less so considering he was here to visit Eugene, anyways. Even if he was stopping in for a ‘hello’, it’d give Bernard some more relief to see Eugene awake and talking. (Bonus points if the ’hello’ segways to something or other about some science jargon, or another, similar topic Bernard can’t make heads or tails of even understanding).
Walking into the main waiting area of the hospital, many of the seats were filled by many different people. Of course, that came as no surprise. This was a hospital, after all. However, there was one person that seemed to catch Bernard’s attention. A teenage girl wearing a green turtleneck, along with a scrunchie in her auburn hair. She was sitting slouched in her seat, arms crossed in front of herself—a despondent look on her face, and a watery glint in her eyes. Bernard blinked.
Stepping closer to her, he leaned down a little to catch her eye. “Connie?” Connie quietly gasped in startle. She hadn’t noticed Bernard approaching her. “O-Oh! Hi, Bernard.” He hummed. “Hi, Connie. Didn’t expect to see you here.” Bernard commented. Connie shrugged. “We came to visit Eugene.” She replied. A bit puzzled, Bernard glanced nearby, before looking back at her. “‘We’?”
“Me and my mom.” Connie clarified. “Uh huh,” Bernard nodded. “And uh, where is your mom?” Shifting a little awkwardly in her seat, Connie answered, “… Talking to Eugene.” That simply made Bernard more puzzled. “So, your mom’s visiting Eugene, and you’re sitting out here…?” Hesitantly, Connie gave a nod. “W-Well, I already said ‘hi’ to him.” She added. “Right,” Bernard began. “But, you didn’t maybe wanna stick around after saying ‘hi’?”
“No- I mean- I… don’t know, okay?” Bernard’s eyes narrowed a little. “‘You don’t’…” He trailed off. Then, he shook his head a little and exhaled. Bernard took a second to consider the expression on Connie’s face before he said his next words. “Well, I might.” It was now Connie’s turn to look confused. “‘You might’ what?”
“Know.”
“Know ‘what’?” Bernard sat in the empty chair next to her. “Know why you didn’t hang around.” Connie said nothing, letting Bernard continue. “I think it may have something to do with that pitying look you’re wearing.” Connie tilted her head a little. “… ‘Pitying’?” Bernard shrugged. “That was just what I observed, anyhow.” He disclosed. Connie’s gaze fell to her lap. “But, anyway. How’ve you been holding up, by the way?”
“Well… it’s been really stressful… kind of hard…” Bernard gave her a look of sympathy. “Of course,” He assured her, sighing. “I wouldn’t think having to deal with all the emotions from somethin’ like this would be easy.” Connie nodded, a hand coming up to wipe her eye. Putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, Bernard tried giving her a light hearted smirk. “I’ve definitely been praying for you, Connie.” She so briefly smirked in return. “… Thanks.”
“And if you need someone to talk to,” Bernard added. “Don’t forget there’s a lot of people, who care for ya, to listen.” He reminded her. “Me included.” Connie glanced at him. “I’ll keep your offer in mind. Thanks, Bernard.” Bernard nodded, patting her shoulder. “Anytime.” Then, he stood from the hard, plastic chair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Connie looked up at him. “I’m also here to see Eugene.”
“… Okay.” With a small tip of his blue cap, Bernard bid Connie farewell. “See you around.” He then went on to see about finding whichever patient room Eugene was staying in. Connie remained seated, still slouched, though her expression shifted a little. Her brow furrowed somewhat, as she thought about what Bernard had said to her. She quietly huffed, in a confused manner, to herself. “ Pity… ?”
﹝•••﹞
Upon her return to the hospital room, June had pulled up a chair beside Eugene’s bed. Simply standing felt a bit strange, and sitting down, she was able to give him her full attention. “Is… Connie fairing well, Mrs. Kendall?” Eugene wondered, looking and sounding genuinely concerned. Sighing a little, June shook her head. “She’s still traumatized by what happened… She can get emotional like that at any moment.”
“Oh…” June continued. “The best I can do is to just be there, and support her.” Eugene hummed. “A very noble thing to do—even if you are her mother.” At his comment, June briefly smiled. “Anyway. How are you doing?” She asked him. Eugene tilted his head a little, a bit puzzled by the question. “I believe you’ve already asked me that.”
“I know,” June confirmed. “But, I just want to know how you’re honestly feeling.” She tried to clarify. “I don’t believe I follow your meaning, Mrs. Kendall.” Eugene confessed, somewhat sheepishly. “Oh. What I mean is that, the robbery, it must’ve been so frightening to go through.” June began, “And I imagine it’s probably left some kind of effect on you. It certainly has for Connie.” She explained to him. Eugene hummed, gaze falling to his lap as he thought. “So…?”
“I suppose… I do understand the root of your concern.” Eugene commented. June lightly waved him off, realizing something herself. “Oh, sorry. If you rather not share, that’s okay.” She assured him, garnering a glance from Eugene. There was something almost comprehensive in his expression. “… Well, it-“
A knocking on the doorframe interrupted Eugene’s answer. Both he and June looked over to see Bernard standing there. “I’m not uh… interrupting anything, am I?” He asked them. June shook her head ‘no’. “It’s alright.” She answered. Eugene looked puzzled. “Mr. Walton? What brings you here…?” The older man blinked. Stepping into the room, he nodded in Eugene’s direction. “You, actually.”
“… Me?”
“Well, yeah.” Bernard confirmed. “Weren’t you in critical condition just a few days ago?” Eugene nodded, “I assume Mr. Whittaker called you, as well?” He wondered. “Yeah, he did.” Bernard replied. “I heard about the whole robbery, too. Can’t even imagine what that was like.” Eugene sighed, and shrugged his good shoulder. Bernard then looked to June. “You’re Connie’s mother, right?”
“Yes, I’m June.” June introduced, standing from her seating to shake Bernard’s hand. “Bernard. I don’t believe we’ve met.” Bernard noted. “I’m not sure, but I’ve heard about you from Connie.” June told him. “Ah, gotcha. Oh, and uh, speakin’ of Connie,” Bernard continued. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing towards the door. “I was actually talking with her just now, in the waiting area.”
“Oh,” June’s eyes widened a bit. “She’s waiting for me. I should be going, then.” She then turned to look back at Eugene. “Take care, and rest, alright?” Eugene smiled. “I shall. Farewell, Mrs. Kendall.” June smiled, too, and gave Eugene a small “good bye” wave before leaving the room. An almost awkward silence settled afterwards.
Breaking the silence before it could drag on, Eugene quietly cleared his throat. “Though, I am surprised and grateful for your visit,” Bernard raised a brow, listening to what he had to say. “In all honesty, I hardly would have expected you to visit me.” Eugene confessed. “Ah, well, y’know. It wasn’t great hearing that you’d wound up in the hospital the way you did.” Bernard said. “And after all the prayin’ we did for ya to pull through, figured it was only right to come ‘n say ‘hi’—see how you’re holdin’ out.”
“… I see.” Eugene mumbled. Bernard shook his head, a subtle smirk finding its way onto his face. “Well, don’t get too excited, now.” The sarcasm didn’t seem to land as he’d intended, if Eugene’s narrowed eyes and puzzled expression was any indicator. “I beg your pardon?” The subtle smirk faded. Bernard sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Ah, nevermind…” He simply told him, before muttering something about “the boy’s grasp of sarcasm”.
Deciding to take the seat that June had previously been sitting in, Bernard took his hands from his pockets and clasped them together—leaning forward a bit with his forearms on his knees. He gestured to Eugene. “So, er,” Bernard took a glance about the hospital room, as if the words he wanted to ask next were simply on a wall nearby for him to use. He looked back to Eugene, again. “How’ve you been doin’ since waking up?” Eugene quietly sighed, finding himself to be growing a bit tired of answering—essentially—the same question repeatedly. “I’ve been feeling fatigued, I am also in pain, and I simply wish to finally be discharged from here.”
“Hm. Short and simple.” Bernard couldn’t help but comment. “But, yeah. I bet you do.” He sympathized. “Say, how bad’s your injury, again? You’ve got your arm in a sling, there, but I don’t remember hearing about you hurting your arm.” Eugene shook his head ‘no’. “Oh, this isn’t a sling, per se. It’s more secure than the measly support of a cloth sling, Mr. Walton.” Bernard seemed to have his interest piqued. “It isn’t? Then, what is it?”
“A support brace.” Eugene answered. “It keeps my arm secure in just the right way, so as my shoulder is able to heal.” He further explained. Bernard nodded. “Okay, I gotcha… And how is your shoulder doing now?” At that question, a subtle eye roll came from Eugene—though it wasn’t at all directed towards Bernard. More towards the injury, itself. “At present… it’s causing me quite a deal of discomfort.” He began. “And, because of the sort of injury this is, I will most likely require extensive physiotherapy to rehabilitate the range of motion in the joint.”
Bernard quietly whistled, taking in all that information. “Well, that’s…” He shook his head. “Certainly going to take some time. Recovering, I mean.” Eugene nodded in agreement, though he also looked a bit discouraged. “But, look at it this way,” Bernard continued. “You’re still young. I’m sure that shoulder of your’s will be good as new sooner than you think.” He said, trying to cheer Eugene up a bit. “Now just think, for example, if it were me tryna recover from an injury like that,”
“Why,” Eugene began, wanting to give his input for Bernard’s hypothetical. “I wouldn’t imagine you’d very well be able to ever fully recover, taking into consideration you’re-“ Eugene then promptly stopped himself. Bernard narrowed his eyes for a second, but opted to let the unspoken comment slide this time. “Anyways, you get the picture.” Eugene nodded. “Yes, I do, Mr. Walton.”
“Good.” Bernard hummed.
There was another short lull in the conversation, before a new question came to Bernard. “Has the doctor told you when you’ll be discharged?” He wondered. “You’ve already mentioned your impatience, earlier.” Eugene gave a nod in confirmation, while going on to add, “I am to be discharged tomorrow, though I will require follow up appointments for my shoulder, and of course the bullet wound.”
“Oh, well, that’s great.” Bernard said. “Real great you’re being discharged that quickly.” A brief smile came over Eugene, obviously being in agreement with Bernard. “It certainly is.” Bernard’s eyes then narrowed a little, as a thought came to him. “Er, Eugene,” He began. “Where was it you said you’re living, again?” Eugene gave him a curious look. “Currently, I’m residing in a dorm room at Campbell Community. Why do you ask?”
“Hm, a dorm room… And eh, you’ll be heading back once you’re discharged?”
“Yes. Where else would you think I would go, Mr. Walton?” Eugene asked him. “Oh well, it’s just that,” Bernard paused, scratching his chin in thought. He gave Eugene a considering look, which seemed to nearly come off as doubtful. “I was just wondering, will you be able to do alright on your own? With your injury, that is.” Eugene’s confused expression nearly changed to one of offense. He chuckled slightly, a bit in disbelief. “Well, of course I will, Mr. Walton. I wouldn’t consider a shoulder injury to leave me in a state of incapability.” Bernard shook his head a little. “No, no, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then, pray tell, what do you mean to imply?”
“I, er…” Bernard trailed off. He seemed to have lost his footing with whatever concern he was trying to voice. It seemed a bit silly, now. “You know what? Nevermind. Forget it.” Eugene blinked. He now looked even more puzzled. “If you say so, Mr. Walton.” He replied, anyway. Bernard quietly sighed, as he mumbled something to himself under his breath.
Brushing off his confusion from the last conversation topic, Eugene was about to start a different conversation topic, when Bernard spoke up. “Good grief,” Eugene noticed the older man looking elsewhere. He followed where he was looking, turning to glance at the nearby window. Whose curtains were open, allowing sunlight to pour in. “Who in the world does the windows here? I can see the handprints from probably every doctor or nurse, who works here, on that glass!”
“Perhaps it’s just an issue of budget?” Eugene proposed. Bernard lightly scoffed. “Real shame, if you ask me.” He commented. “I mean, how is anyone expected to recover properly when the blue sky is all smudged up?” Bernard continued. “… I’m fairing just fine, actually.” Eugene quietly said to himself, but Bernard heard him clearly. He rolled his eyes a little. “Okay, besides you.”
“Huh?”
“I wonder if I could put in a, eh, “suggestion” to the hospital? Suggest they hire a good window cleaner.” Bernard questioned, looking intrigued by his own idea. He then managed to peel his gaze from the window to glance at his watch. “Well, anyways, that’ll have to wait.” Eugene looked at him curiously. “I assume you must have windows of your own to be cleaning, now?” Bernard nodded. “Yep. I’ll be doin’ the ones down at Greenblatt’s Department store for the better part of the afternoon.”
“Ah.” Eugene hummed. Standing from his seat, Bernard gave Eugene a small nod. “I’ll let you get a bit more rest, then.” He said. “Thank you, again, for coming by, Mr. Walton.” Eugene thanked. Bernard smiled. “Don’t mention it.” He told him, along with a light wave off. He then added, “Also, if you need an ear, anytime, just let me know. Alright?” Eugene nodded. “I’ll keep your offer in mind, Mr. Walton.” Bernard hummed. “Oh, and, Eugene?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll be prayin’ for y’a.” Bernard told him. “… Yes, well… thank you.” Eugene answered, nearly missing Bernard’s brief look of sympathy. “Cya, Eugene.” Bernard said, giving Eugene a tip of his blue cap, before heading to take his leave. “Farewell, Mr. Walton.”
﹝•••﹞
While idling at a red light, Whit was adjusting the dial of his car’s radio—having grown disinterested with what had begun playing for music. A moment’s static soon cleared up, and over the speakers came the voice of a news broadcast. “And we bring you now the latest report of the man who held up two employees of Odyssey’s local Ice Cream shop and Discovery Emporium; Whit’s End.” The light turned green, and Whit continued to drive. He also listened attentively to the report.
“A vehicle in Connellsville had been reported to be seen with a driver who matches the description of the wanted man.” Whit blinked, turning onto the main street. “Police have run a check of the vehicle’s license plate. The vehicle in question was described to be a black Acura, registered to a man by the name of Hank Murray.” The report continued. “At this time, Murray has last been seen in Connellsville. Residents of Campbell County are advised to remain vigilant, and if you spot this dangerous man, to contact authorities immediately. For your own safety, do not approach him, or interact unless necessary.”
“… Obviously.” Whit said to himself. Turning his car into a parking lot, the report on the radio changed in topic. “Thank you for that, Mark. Hopefully this man is soon caught.” A woman commented, before continuing on with her segment. “We turn now to our week’s forecast. It seems there will be a return of rain later on in the week, preceded by- ” The radio fell silent as Whit pulled the keys from the ignition—having parked the car, first. Before even stepping out from his vehicle, he took a moment. He quietly sighed.
“Lord,” Whit began, closing his eyes. “Thank you for your protection, now… I won’t deny that this… has been nerve wracking.” He paused, trying to find his words. “I pray you continue to grant peace… to grant healing. You know we can’t get through this all without you, Father… And I pray that,” Whit found himself slightly hesitating. “… I pray you be with Hank Murray… in what way that may be…” Another paused. “… and that he’s soon found—maybe even that he turns himself in, willingly… if it’s in your plan, God.” A shuddering sigh. “… These things I ask in your name. Amen.”
Looking up, Whit blinked a few times. He briefly removed his glasses to rub at his eyes, then put them back on. Pocketing his car keys, Whit finally got out of the car—not wanting to keep anyone waiting. He crossed the parking lot, going up to the entrance of Odyssey General.
﹝•••﹞
His movements were heavily cautious, as he awkwardly slipped his slung arm through the hole of the light navy vest. Just as he managed to get his arm through, Eugene accidentally jerked his shoulder—a habitual action to ensure the vest rested properly. That simply caused the pain of his injury to flare up, directly leading to a hiss through clenched teeth. “ …Ow -!”
“Are you alright?” Whit asked him, outstretching his arms a bit, ready to help. “I-I believe so…” Eugene answered, while trying to relax his tension a bit to hopefully let the pain lessen to where it’d been before. “I simply… need a moment,” He said, standing still and unmoving as he waited for his shoulder to stop hurting badly. Whit sighed a little. “Well,” He began. “I will make sure to drive as smoothly as I can once we leave here.” Eugene briefly half smirked. “Thank you, Mr. Whittaker… And, thank you for bringing me a change of clothes.”
“You’re welcome.” Whit replied. “Oh, I hope you didn’t mind me bringing you that navy vest, since your black one was unfortunately ruined.” Eugene lightly shook his head ‘no’. “It’s quite alright… though my black one was my favorite…” He near-sadly pined. “Come to think of it,” Whit went on. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear this navy one.” He noted. “Well, this vest in particular was a recent gift.” Eugene told him. “I hadn’t much opportunity to wear it yet.”
“Ah, I see.” Whit hummed. “It’s a nice color, really.” He complimented. Eugene looked down at the vest. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He agreed.
Slowly exhaling, some of Eugene’s physical tension seemed to disappear a bit. “Very well. I am ready to return home now, Mr. Whittaker.” He said. Whit shrugged. “Actually, Eugene,” He began. “I’d like to offer you stay with me. At my home.” Eugene blinked. “Whatever for, Mr. Whittaker?” Whit continued. “Well, Eugene, you’re still healing from a traumatic injury. Not only is the bone in your should still shattered, but you’re also still recovering from surgery.” Whit pointed out, though obvious his observations were. “I simply think that it would be… hm, safer for you if you weren’t all alone in your dorm while you healed.”
“… ‘Safer’,” Eugene repeated. His brow furrowed, as he pondered Whit’s suggestion. The older man did very well seem to have a founded reason to be worried for him, one would suppose. Eugene hummed, seeming to be considering the offer. “… I wouldn’t be imposing in any way by staying with you, would I, Mr. Whittaker?” Whit shook his head. “If it were an imposition, I wouldn’t have offered.” He said. “And anyhow, it’s up to you. You don’t need to if you’d rather not.”
“I think,” Eugene slowly began. “That I shall take you up on your offer.” Whit smiled. “Glad to hear it. Now,” He took his car keys from his pocket. “Let’s get going so we can stop by your dorm. I’m sure you’d like to pack a few things for the next couple of days.” Eugene nodded. “Oh yes, of course. Thank you, Mr. Whittaker.” Whit gently patted his good shoulder as the two made their way down the hallway. “You’re welcome, Eugene.”
﹝•••﹞
That evening’s radio news story had been interrupted by a breaking report which had just come in. The news anchor swiftly rearranged his newly given papers, then lightly cleared his throat. “We interrupt this story to bring you a breaking report,” He began—jogging the papers to better handle them. “The Connellsville Police Department have just taken convict Hank Murray—the man responsible for the robbery of two Whit’s End employees—into their custody.”
Silently, the anchor raised his brow and nodded, satisfied. He continued. “At this time, he will be taken to the county jail, where he will await to stand trial. More information to come.” A turn of the page. “Both the police captain in Connellsville, Captain Nora Caine, and Odyssey’s own Captain Patrick O’Ryan are extending their thanks to the public. The eye witness reports which came in following the release of Murray’s police sketch helped greatly in their search.”
Saying nothing, Whit quietly sat down on his living room couch—placing both mugs down on the coffee table as he and Eugene listened to the radio. “Though this case is not yet closed, I am certain we are all sharing the same peace of mind in knowing that this dangerous man is no more on the street.” Whit nodded, smiling a little. “We will continue reporting on this story as the details come in. And now, back to….” Turning the knob on the radio, the news channel was quieted.
“Well,” Whit looked over at Eugene. “How about that, hey Eugene?” Eugene barely hummed, picking up his mug and drinking the warm tea. Whit sighed. “… No comment?” Eugene kept his gaze fixated on the mug he held in his free hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Whit leaned back slightly against the couch, loosely crossing his arms in front of himself. Eugene shook his head a little. “I’m… glad Hank Murray has been arrested, I suppose.”
“You suppose.” Hesitantly, the college student nodded. He then lightly shrugged. “Though, I can’t say as I look forward to the trial… Being required to testify of the robbery.” Eugene confessed. “I completely understand. Connie’s not too excited about it either, you know.” Whit told him. “But, it’s necessary to be sure proper justice is served.” Eugene gave a nod. “Yes, I know well that it is, Mr. Whittaker. Though, still, something about it gives me unease… I’m unsure how exactly to explain it.”
“I think I know what that unease is.” Finally looking away from his mug of tea, Eugene turned to Whit with a curious expression. “To put it simply, Eugene, there’s no way to come out of an encounter like what you and Connie went through without some form of trauma.” Whit began, rather point blank. But his tone remained sympathetic. “This has traumatized the both of you, and rightfully so.” Eugene’s brow slowly furrowed as he listened to Whit’s explanation. “And, with you both needing to testify at the trial, you’ll essentially be made to relive what happened—in a sense.” Eugene lowered his mug to hold it atop his knee. He sighed, more shakily than he’d expected to. “I-In a sense… that does s-seem to… be exactly the reason for my… u-unease…”
“… Eugene?” Whit picked up on how Eugene’s emotional composure was seeming to change. Gently, he reached over and took the mug from Eugene’s hand to place it on the coffee table. With it now freed up, Eugene’s hand clenched tightly into a fist—still resting atop his knee. “What is it, Eugene?” The slight tremor of his frame wasn’t missed by Whit, even for a second. “I…” Taking a breath, Eugene tried to compose himself again. “M-My apologies,” He began. Whit was about to tell him he didn’t need to apologize, (whatever it was he was even apologizing for), but the college student continued. “However I… simply need a moment to m-myself.”
“You’re sure-?”
“Yes,” Eugene answered, near cutting Whit off. He stood up from the couch, leaving the living room. Whit watched Eugene leave to the guest room, now all alone on the couch. Sighing, the older man pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh Lord… please , these kids need you…” He quietly muttered, feeling his heart ache not only for Eugene, but for Connie too. This wouldn’t be an easy healing process in any sense, that much Whit was certain of.
*﹝•••﹞
Skidding to a halt on the sidewalk, Jimmy Barclay hopped off his bike and hastily kicked the stand out to make sure it didn’t topple over. Without even checking to make sure his bike was standing properly, the boy turned to the front steps of Whit’s End—scaling the stairs with an impressive speed. Making it up to the door, Jimmy grabbed the doorknob. It didn’t turn, telling him the door was still locked. He looked up. The written sign was still in the window.
“Due to unfortunate circumstances, I will be keeping Whit’s End closed until further notice. I hope it won’t be too long, but for now, I don’t feel it right to be open at this time. Sorry, and to you kids especially.
But don’t worry, the shop will be open again before you know it, so just practice your patience! Can’t wait to have you all back, and to be behind the counter with you folks. Again, I apologize.”
-J. A. Whittaker
“Aw, man!” Another bike came to a halt beside Jimmy’s—it’s rider huffing from trying to keep up with him. “Jimmy-! Is it still closed-?!” Curt Stevens called out. Jimmy nodded disappointedly, and he slowly meandered back down the steps. “Oh, come on!” Curt exclaimed with a bit of a pout. “Guess it’s back to Hal’s Diner for a milkshake. Again.” Jimmy said, as he got back on his bike. “Yeah… Hey, did the sign in the door say anything different?”
“No.” Jimmy confirmed. “When do you think Mr. Whittaker will actually open the shop again?” Curt wondered. His friend shrugged. “I hope soon, because I heard on the radio that the robber was caught.” Curt looked a bit surprised. “Woah, really?” Jimmy nodded. “Yep. You know, I don’t think the guy really knows how to run from the police, because they knew what his car looked like and everything.”
“You’re telling me!” Curt agreed, laughing a little. Laughing along, Jimmy kicked the stand of his bike back up. Gripping onto the handlebars, he placed a foot on one of the pedals. Then, he shot Curt a competitive look. “Race you to the diner!” Jimmy declared, before suddenly taking off down the sidewalk—leaving a mist of dust in his trail. “Hey-!” Curt yelled out, also taking off after Jimmy.
﹝•••﹞
Trying to simply have a moment’s peace, Connie quietly sat on the top step of her home’s porch. There were birds nearby chirping in the trees, with leaves being rustled gently by the breeze in the air. It didn’t seem to bother her how the temperature outside felt a bit cooler than it had been—thanks to the rain returning in the forecast. So long as it didn’t begin raining on her, Connie would take it.
Having this time to sit quietly on the porch seemed to do her some good, she found. Sitting quietly on the porch, Connie was able to simply think of nothing. Give herself a break from the thoughts and feelings weighing her down. It also allowed her a quiet moment to pray. Another thing that she’d been doing, which had been helping.
Quietly sighing, Connie idly glanced around. She was about to consider finally heading back inside, when an old pickup drove up to the curb in front of the house. The truck’s noisy engine quieted, the driver having taken the key out of the ignition. Connie watched as Tom Riley stepped out of the truck, shoving the driver’s door shut. He quickly spotted Connie watching him. “Oh, howdy there, Connie!”
“Hey, Tom!” Connie greeted back. The apple farmer made his way up the front walkway, stopping at the start of the porch steps. He gave the teenage girl a smile and a nod. “I see you’re takin’ advantage of this nice day?” Smiling in return, Connie hummed. “Yep, just sitting here enjoying it… and the quiet, too, I guess.” She said. “That’s nice.” Tom commented. He gestured to the spot next to her. “D’you mind if I…?”
“No, go ahead.”
“Thanks,” Tom thanked, as he then went to sit on the top step beside Connie. “So, I guess you’re probably here to see me…?” She assumed, looking at him curiously. Tom chuckled a little. “Certainly am.” He confirmed. “I just wanted to stop by ‘n see how you’ve been holdin’ up.” Tom explained. “Since, well… you’ve probably got a lot on your mind with everything that’s happened.”
“… That’s an understatement.” Connie mumbled, shaking her head a bit. Tom sighed. “Sure it is,” He agreed, before going silent for a moment. Connie said nothing, looking forward to no particular spot. “So,” Tom began. “I eh, heard on the radio that they caught the guy.” Connie nodded. “That mean you ‘n Eugene will be testifyin’ at the trial?” Though with great hesitation, Connie nodded again. “I’m… kind of dreading it…” She sheepishly confessed. “Oh?” Connie continued. “I’m not looking forward to retelling the robbery… having to give my witness statement at the police station was stressful enough.”
“Well, sure.”
“But then,” Her brow furrowed, a small look of anger appearing on Connie’s face. “I don’t even want to be in the same room as him!
I-I can barely look at his face in the newspaper, much less do I want to sit across from him in a courtroom!” Tom stayed quiet, letting her simply vent what she was feeling. “From the moment he came into the shop, I just knew he was bad news! But I let him stick around, and… and he…” Fumbling a little, Connie huffed in frustration. Looking downwards, her brow furrowed as a small tear rolled down her cheek. “Sounds like you’re angry with him?”
“Yes… No? I mean…” Connie shook her head. “I-I don’t know… I think so, yes…” She tried to answer. “It’s like… I’m upset about what he did… but also, I’m not sure…” Tom hummed. “I get it. Sometime’s, it can be hard to know how you’re feelin’ towards someone who’s very clearly done you wrong—erm, well…” He sighed a little. “That’s puttin’ it a bit lightly, now.” Rolling her eyes a little, as if to keep herself from tearing up any more, Connie then said, “… And yes, I know that I need to forgive him,” She began. “I’m getting there… I think.”
“I’m glad,” Tom said. He put a supportive hand on her shoulder. “You know, forgivin’ him will certainly be the first step in healin’ emotional wise.” Connie glanced at him, still with a bit of a watery glint in her eyes. “See, when you’re able to forgive him, you’re able to finally move on. It’ll be somethin’ that’ll no longer weigh on ya.” For a brief moment, a small smile appeared on Connie’s face. “Yeah… Yeah, you’re right. But, I… don’t know how long it’ll take me to forgive him.”
“There’s no given time frame for these things, you know.” Tom reminded her. Connie nodded, gaze falling again.
For a brief moment, both fell silent. Tom took the silence to think of what more he wanted to say to her. Then, something seemed to don on him. “Can I ask you somethin’, Connie?” Connie nodded for him to continue. “You said somethin’ a second ago about “lettin’ him stick around”. As though you were supposed to do somethin’ different.” The teenager said nothing. Tom continued. “As far as you were aware, this was just a regular customer that came in, and you were simply doin’ your job in servin’ the guy.”
“I know, but… no “regular customer” has ever made me feel nervous like that guy did.” Connie then clarified. “I shouldn’t have even let him so much as order anything…” Tom shook his head.
“Connie, listen to me.” He began, getting her to look at him again. “It isn’t on you, or anyone for that matter, to be responsible for what another person decides to do.” He said to her, “It was just terribly unfortunate that this ‘customer’ had bad intentions when he showed up to the shop.” Tom explained to her, his tone holding a certainty to it. Though, there was something in Connie’s expression that seemed to suggest she wasn’t entirely convinced. “That right there isn’t somethin’ you ought to let weigh on you, y’hear?” With a hum and a small shrug, Connie looked away. “… I guess not.” She simply said. Tom shook his head a little.
Unknowingly interrupting the two’s conversation, June opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. Both Connie and Tom turned their attention to her. “Oh, hello there, Tom.” Tom gave her a smile. “Howdy do, June.” He greeted in return. Sitting on the porch bench, June asked, “How long have you been here?” Tom hummed. “Oh well, not too long. I came by to come and say ‘hi’ to Connie, since I was already on my way over to Whit’s.”
“That was nice of you.” June commented. “Since you’re here,” She went on. “Would you like something to drink, maybe?” Tom smirked, but shook his head ‘no’. “I’d love to,” He began. “But, maybe another time.” June hummed. “That’s alright, then.” She told him. “At the very least, say ‘hi’ to Whit for me.” Tom nodded. “I will—to Whit and Eugene.” Blinking a couple times, realization came over June. “That’s right, Whit did mention that!”
“Whit mentioned ‘what’?” Connie asked, looking puzzled. Tom looked back at her. “Y’mean, you don’t know?” Looking between the two, Connie’s brow furrowed again in her confusion. “I must’ve forgotten to mention it to you,” June said with a hum. Her confusion growing, Connie asked again, “Mention ‘what’?” Tom finally filled her in, saying, “Whit is havin’ Eugene stay with him for the next little while as he heals, what with his shoulder ‘n all.”
“He is…?” Tom nodded, though, now it was his turn to look puzzled. “You really didn’t know?” A bit timidly, Connie shook her head ‘no’. Tom blinked. “Really…? Haven’t you talked to Eugene lately?” Looking downwards, Connie answered, “Not really…” The farmer hummed. “I, er, see…” Mindlessly thrumming his fingers atop his lap, Tom got an idea. “Well, since I’m headin’ over anyway, would you like to come along?”
“Are you… sure?” Connie asked him. Tom gave a hearty nod. “Sure ‘m sure.” June reached over and patted her daughter on the shoulder. “I think it’s a good idea. Go on, Connie.” Looking between the two, Connie took a brief second to consider the offer. Then, with a shrug, she replied, “Um… okay, yeah sure. I guess I’ll come.”
Standing up with a bit of a groan, Tom smiled. “Alrighty, then.” Connie stood up too, as Tom looked over at June. “I’ll bring your daughter back after, so don’t worry there.” Shaking her head a little, June answered, “Sounds good. Thank you.” Remaining on the porch bench, June watched as both Connie and Tom walked down the steps, and along the front walkway—heading over to the farmer’s old pickup.
﹝•••﹞
Pulling open the front door of his home, Whit was greeted with Tom and Connie both standing on his step. He smiled. “Why, hello you two! Come in,” Whit told them, opening the door further. “Good afternoon to y’a, Whit.” Tom greeted in reply, as Connie gave him a smile. Closing the door, Whit looked to her. “And it’s good of you to stop by, too, Connie.”
“Yeah, well,” Connie gave a bit of a shrug. “Tom offered to let me tag along, so I figured ‘why not’.” Whit laughed a little. “That’s nice.” He commented. “How are you doing today?” Her smile still remaining, Connie hummed. “I’m doing a bit better today, I guess.” She said, only sounding somewhat certain. Whit’s look of sympathy returned, as he held out his arms to her—offering a hug, which she gladly accepted. Connie quietly uttered a “thanks” in response.
Briefly looking away from the touching scene, Tom spotted Eugene arriving at the foyer to see who had arrived. “Well, Eugene,” The apple farmer began, stepping over to him. “Glad to see you out of the hospital now. How’re you feelin’?” Eugene offered Tom a friendly, lopsided smile. “Greetings, Mr. Riley.” He greeted him. “I am doing well, all things considered. Thank you.”
“That’s just fine.” Tom said. Eugene nodded, before then turning his attention towards Connie. “Miss Kendall?” Stepping away from Whit, Connie looked in Eugene’s direction. “Oh- Hi, Eugene.” She greeted simply. “Salutations to you as well.” He replied. Then came a small, awkward pause—which was promptly interrupted by Whit saying, “How about you three head on into the living room, while I get us something refreshing to drink?”
“Sounds good to me, Whit.” Tom answered. Whit nodded. “Alright. I’ll be back in just a second.” Whit said, as he went back into the kitchen. The others went over to sit in the living room. And, a short bit later found the four of them engaged in some rather pleasant small talk.
The brief topic of conversation concluded, and the talking quieted for a beat. After taking another sip of his lemonade, Tom gestures to Eugene. “How long’ll you need to wear that support ‘contraption’ for, Eugene?” Quietly sighing, Eugene answered, “Approximately eight weeks, perhaps more. Though, by then, I expect I’ll be given a proper shoulder brace that can easily be worn and removed when needed… According to Dr. Morton, there may be a long term lingering effect to my shoulder as a result of this injury.”
“Ah… Well, ‘m sorry to hear that.” Eugene half shrugged and shook his head. “Oh no, don’t be. I suppose one might well be able to equate it to any injury from, say, being engaged in a physical sport—as can of course happen.” Tom blinked, and was still deciphering what Eugene had just said even as he continued talking. “So, really, it isn’t grave at all.” There was a pause. “I- Yeah, of course… but, who said anythin’ ‘bout a grave…?”
“That would be grave as in serious, Mr. Riley.”
“Oh, right.” Tom shook his head a little and chuckled. “Sorry, you just had me scrambled with your words there.” At that comment, Eugene looked contrite. “My apologies.” Tom lightly waved him off in reply, likely assuring him it was okay.
Then came another lull in the conversation. Connie was looking at no particular spot on the wall as she drank her lemonade when Eugene spoke to her, “If I may, Miss Kendall,” She slowly looked over at him. “It… well, brings me relief to see that you appear to be doing better, as well.” Eugene then noticed her small, curious expression. “Meaning, as opposed to when you and your mother came to visit me in the hospital.”
“Oh, yeah. U-Um,” Connie cleared her throat, more in a way to stall for a few short seconds to collect her thoughts. “Yeah, I uh, guess I am.” She agreed. However, a part of her felt as if she’d just fibbed. For the moment, she ignored that feeling, as she saw a small, sincere grin on Eugene’s face. Whit quietly sighed, exchanging a look with Tom—who picked up on the “undertone” of the sigh. He said nothing, though.
“Say,” Tom began, “When’s the trial suppose to start, again?” He wondered. “Proceedings commence the day after tomorrow, I believe.” Eugene replied, briefly looking over to Whit for confirmation. To which, he nodded. “They are. And as far as we know, witnesses will be getting a day to tell their side of what happened the night of the robbery.” Tom hummed. “One day each? That’s peculiar.” Connie shifted a bit uncomfortably in her seat, while Eugene spoke again. “Actually, Mr. Riley, it isn’t. It’s simply to ensure we’re all given the appropriate time to testify accurately all of the information and details the court needs.”
“Ah, well when y’a put it that way, guess it does make sense.” Tom commented. He briefly glanced between Connie and Eugene, before asking, “Who’ll be testifyin’ first, then?” He wondered. “I think Officer Kern will be. Then, Eugene.” Whit replied. “And Connie. I’ve also been asked to take the stand, likely because the robbery did happen in my shop.”
“Well, of course.” The farmer said. “Just so the two of you know, you’ll both be in folks’ prayers while this trial is happenin’.” Connie gave him a smile of gratitude. “Thank you, Tom.” Eugene hummed. “… Er, yes. It is… appreciated, I suppose.” Tom shook his head a little. “You’re welcome. And don’t go worryin’ about this too much, y’hear?” Connie and Eugene both nodded.
originally posted on AO3, here.