Split Screen Scream - Debra Parmley Read online

  She felt different now. Changed. Now, she expected violence. Knew it could happen. No longer, did she live with a naïve mindset that believed nothing like that would ever happen to her. Because now, it had.

  She didn’t know what to do with these new thoughts and feelings. The shooting had happened, and now she didn’t know how to be. Her life now fell into a split screen of what had happened before and what had happened after. But the “after” part of her life story wasn’t written yet, and she was standing here on the page, not quite knowing what to do.

  At least she’d slept last night, but her sleep had been restless. She knew she’d dreamed but couldn’t remember what the dream was about. Which was likely just as well. She had enough dealing with what was going through her head in her awake moments, without adding in the dreamtime thoughts, too.

  Usually on her way to work, she’d turn on the radio and listen to music she liked, and sometimes she even sang along. But today, she didn’t even turn the radio on. She drove in silence until she pulled into her parking place behind the shop, and then sat in the car for a few minutes before turning it off.

  Everything was quiet. In the car and outside of the car. It was early. She usually came in an hour before they opened to the public to start working on the arrangements needed for the week’s orders. The silence in the car was a new thing and a needed thing.

  Then she opened the door, took her keys out of the car, and walked to the back door. Unlocking it, she cracked the door a bit and peered inside before pushing it open all the way.

  All was quiet. She was the only one here. Good.

  She pushed the door the rest of the way open and walked into the shop, quickly locking the door behind her.

  No one can get in while both doors are locked.

  For the first hour, the shop remained quiet as she worked on a silver arrangement with blue and purple flowers for the grand opening of a new hair salon. When that was done, she made three red rose arrangements for wedding anniversaries and one pink rosebud arrangement for a sweet sixteen birthday. The hour went by fast, and she’d just finished the arrangements when Mrs. Brown opened the front door.

  “Good morning,” she breezed in past Christie and the beautiful arrangements standing on the long table. “Oh, these are lovely.”

  “Thank you,” Christie quietly answered.

  Mrs. Brown, always perceptive, slowed down to look at Christie more closely. “Something’s happened.”

  “Yes,” Christie replied and looked at Mrs. Brown’s kind and concerned blue eyes. She was like a sweet, caring grandmother, and easy to talk to. Christie’s hands dropped to her sides. “You probably heard the news… That theater shooting? I was there. Inside, watching that movie.”

  “Oh, Christie, no!” Mrs. Brown gasped. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re all right.” She reached for Christie’s arm. “Come over here and sit down.” Taking her by the elbow, she moved toward the small table and two chairs in the corner of the room where they took their breaks and meals.

  Christie let herself be guided, and once they both sat, she said, “It was pretty frightening.”

  “Why yes, that would have been. Terribly frightening. Tell me what happened.”

  Christie blew out a deep breath. “We were just sitting there, watching the movie, when this crazy man came in with a gun and started shooting.”

  Mrs. Brown nodded. “I saw on the news it had happened, but they didn’t name any of the theater patrons.”

  “No, they’ll keep our names private.”

  “That’s good. What happened with the Navy SEAL? I heard he saved everyone.”

  “He did. He stopped the man, and then he helped the wounded. I helped him.”

  “You did?” Mrs. Brown’s eyes widened with surprise.

  “I did. Put a tourniquet on and everything.”

  Mrs. Brown gave her hand a squeeze. “Oh, Christie, I’m so proud of you. I didn’t know you had any sort of medical training.”

  “I don’t, but Reed talked me through it.”

  “Reed.” Mrs. Brown smiled. “What a nice name. He sounds like quite the hero. Is he handsome?”

  “Oh, very,” Christie said, and felt a blush suffuse her cheeks.

  “Built, too, I’ll wager,” Mrs. Brown said, arching an eyebrow.

  “Yes. Very built.” Christie nodded, remembering the way his muscles flexed when he moved. The power he held in his body.

  “Handsome, built, and a hero. A SEAL. Is he married?”

  “No. I don’t think so. I didn’t see a ring.”

  Her employer held a hand to her heart. “I think this was meant to be. Not just chance that brought you two together.”

  Christie shrugged. “Maybe.” Hopefully…

  “I also think it’s time you started dating,” the older woman said with a nod.

  “Well, he hasn’t asked me. And I may never see him again.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. When it’s fated for two to meet, there is always a way.”

  Tuesday went quietly, much like Monday, but on Wednesday, the bell over the door of the shop jingled, and Christine looked up from the flowers she was watering to see Reed entering the shop.

  “Hello,” she said, her heart skittering faster.

  “Hello, Christie,” he said. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m good. Been working with my flowers.” She beamed at him. “I’m glad you found the shop. Are you here to place an order or pick up a bouquet? We have some lovely ones today.”

  “Actually…” He stepped closer until he was standing near enough to touch, his gaze never leaving hers. “I came in looking for you.”

  Christie blushed and dipped her head, feeling the heat rise in her neck and cheeks. “You did?”

  “I did. I thought I’d invite you to the range for date night, if you’re interested.”

  He’d come in looking for her to ask her out? She wanted to pinch herself.

  Wait. Date night. Range?

  She squeaked out the last word, before realizing she’d spoken out loud.

  “Yes, the gun range. They have a couples’ date night. We’d be able to shoot and have dinner there. Saturday night, if you’d like to go.”

  The concept was boggling her mind. People do this? This is a date thing?

  “This Saturday. If you’re free.”

  Oh, he kept talking because she hadn’t answered him. He was waiting for an answer, and her mind was in a spin. “I-I’ve never been to a gun range. I don’t know anything about guns.”

  “That part’s easy. I’ll teach you.”

  “Teach me to shoot guns?” Her voice was doing that squeaking thing again. Oh, why couldn’t she answer him normally without sounding like a mouse?

  His lips twitched. “Yes, teach you to shoot guns. You can learn to shoot handguns or long guns, if you like rifles better. Anything you want to start with.”

  “Oh. Wow.” Her eyes wide, she tried to wrap her head around the idea of this handsome Navy SEAL teaching her how to shoot guns. Images of old western movies where the hero taught the heroine how to shoot guns flooded into her head. The hero would put his arms around the heroine to show her how to shoot, and he’d be so close. Reed would be so close.

  Longing wrestled with fear, her long-standing fear of guns. She stood silent while they wrestled.

  Chapter 6

  Reed watched the range of emotions that slid across Christie’s face like a continually changing kaleidoscope, a mesmerizing show that had begun the moment she’d noticed him walking through the door.

  Quite simply, she fascinated him.

  Clearly, she was entertaining many new thoughts.

  He’d have to try harder to convince her. “The dinner special Saturday night is meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans. It’s country-style food there, and they usually have a few fresh pies to choose from for dessert. So, wear jeans, a comfortable shirt, closed-toe shoes, and bring your appetite.” He gave her his warmest smile. “Sound like fun?”
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  She blinked. “Yes.”

  “Good. I can pick you up after work. You pick the time, and I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “Oh, okay, yes. Well, I usually get off work at five on Saturdays.”

  A short, white-haired lady, who must’ve been the Mrs. Brown Christie had spoken of, poked her head out of the back room. “You’ll be off at four on Saturday, dear. Plenty of time to go shooting.”

  Surprised, Christie swung her head to look at Mrs. Brown. “An hour early?”

  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed a bit of overtime happening lately, my dear, which hasn’t shown up on your time sheet. And we don’t have any big orders to work on until next week.”

  “Oh, all right then. Thank you, Mrs. Brown.” Christie smiled at her.

  “You’re welcome, dear,” Mrs. Brown said cheerily.

  “Oh!” Christie turned back toward Reed. “I haven’t introduced you. Reed Tindal this is Mrs. Brown. Mrs. Brown, this is Mr. Tindal.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Mrs. Brown said.

  “Pleased to meet you as well,” Reed said.

  “Well, since I’m off early, you can pick me up at five—if that’s not too soon—or five thirty.”

  “Not too soon. That’s perfect.” He smiled his thanks at Mrs. Brown, who winked at him and ducked away into the back room again. “I’ll pick you up at five.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  He scanned the colorful flowers and said, “Which is your favorite? Roses?” Every woman likes red roses.

  “It’s hard for me to choose. There’s a language of flowers, you know.”

  “There is? I did0’t know that.” He watched her, thinking, She’s full of surprises and things to learn.

  “It can be complicated,” she said. “But I could teach you.”

  He tilted his head. “Sounds fair. I’ll teach you how to shoot, and you teach me the language of flowers.”

  “It’s a deal,” she said softly, blushing.

  “But if you had to pick a favorite today…?”

  “Today, I would pick lilies,” she pointed to a selection of lilies in various colors. “White lilies with some greenery and babies’ breath.”

  He nodded. “Very pretty.”

  “I’m making an arrangement for a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary tomorrow,” she said. “White lilies and baby’s breath. They’re having a dinner party and a pianist.”

  “Sounds elegant.”

  “Oh, yes,” she smiled. “Very elegant. I’m looking forward to doing their arrangement.”

  “You love your job.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  It was a nice change to meet a woman who loved her job. Who was happy with her life. A real nice change of pace. “I should let you get back to work,” he said, surprised by how reluctant he felt leaving. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

  Her smile was wide and sweet. “Yes! See you Saturday.”

  He let himself out the door, the image of Christie surrounded by a profusion of colorful flowers staying with him.

  Christie nervously moved about her kitchen, watching the clock. Reed would be here in twenty minutes. Then they were going shooting. She still couldn’t believe she was going to a gun range. Reed was the only person who could have talked her into it. Though that’s not really how it had happened. She’d said yes so fast, she couldn’t exactly remember how it had happened. Now, she was going to a gun range, and she was going to learn how to shoot.

  I wonder if he makes it a habit of taking women on a first date to the gun range? It certainly is an unusual way to start a dating relationship.

  She ran her hands down her best jeans and fussed with her new T-shirt. Tuck the shirt in or wear it out? Tucking it in showed off her figure. Wearing it out was more comfortable. She opted for out. The T-shirt was pale pink and decorated with embroidered purple violets with the saying, Flowers are my superpower, beneath them.

  Absentmindedly, she checked her fridge and freezer again. She had a frozen pizza, chips, popcorn, colas, and a bottle of red wine. Much more than coffee to offer him if they ended up back at her house, hanging out. Though this date did include dinner, and they might not end up here afterward, or be hungry if they did. At least, she was prepared for a man’s visit and could offer him something besides coffee.

  Reed rang the doorbell, and she hurried to the door.

  She opened it to see his smiling face looking down on her. He read her T-shirt. “Nice shirt. It suits you.”

  “Thank you,” she said. She took him in from head to toe. His tanned face, dark hair along with a smile, which reached his eyes. Broad shoulders beneath a plain black t-shirt and black jeans showed his toned and muscular physique in sexy yet understated way. “You look nice too.”

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “As ready as I can be,” she said. She grabbed her purse then stepped outside her house and locked the door.

  “Nervous after the shooting?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Very nervous.”

  Placing his hand on the small of her back to guide her to his car, he said, “I’ll have to see what I can do to ease your fears. Were you afraid of guns before the theater shooting?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  He opened the car door for her and said, “Have you ever been around guns? Maybe growing up?”

  “I’ll tell you about it on the way,” she said.

  “Sounds good.” He closed her door and went over to the driver’s side, opened the door, and got in. After starting the car, he turned the radio off and turned his full attention to Christie.

  “My dad used to hunt, and he had guns. Shotguns and rifles. I can remember them being in a wooden case with glass doors that mother and daddy kept locked. So, in a way, I was around guns. But I was always told not to touch them.”

  “And when you got older?”

  “Daddy died in a car accident when I was ten. Though he was in his truck. It was on the highway. A semi went out of control and daddy didn’t live long after he was hit.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Reed’s face showed concern. “That had to be hard, losing a father so young.”

  “It was. Mother did something with the guns. I’m not sure what, but they went away, and I never saw them again. She remarried, but my stepdad didn’t shoot or go hunting. He’s a businessman, and he works and golfs.”

  “I see. So, for you, guns were big scary no-noes.”

  “Right.”

  “And you still see them from a child’s point of view.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Probably.”

  “Did you ever see your dad handling the guns? Loading them or cleaning them?”

  “Once, he had them on the kitchen table cleaning them. He’d started to show me what he was doing, but mother returned from buying groceries, freaked out, and told me I wasn’t to touch them and to leave the room.”

  “So, you’ve picked up your mother’s fear of guns. They wouldn’t have hurt you, because he would have had to unload them to clean them.”

  She nodded. “Yes, he said they were unloaded. They argued about, it and I heard him say that.”

  “Okay. So, I’m going to start you off with learning the parts of a gun. I’ll show you a shotgun, a rifle, and two handguns—a revolver and a nine-millimeter. I’ll show you how the guns are put together and how they work. Somewhat like what your dad was trying to teach you before your mother walked in.”

  “That would be great. He did want me to learn about them.” She smiled. “I think he’d approve of this part of our date.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Good, but let’s not get into the habit of bringing along what your daddy would approve of on our dates. That could get uncomfortable.”

  She laughed. “Oh yeah, it could.”

  “I’d have had the father and teenage-boy talk, if I’d dated you in high school, I bet.”

  “Oh yeah, you would’ve. Daddy was real protective. My stepdad? Not so much. With him, it was all
about the money. How much a dress for the prom would cost. I always felt like he saw me as a burden and didn’t like paying for someone else’s daughter.”

  “Are he and your mother still married?”

  “Yeah, and they still live in Pennsylvania, so I don’t see them much. I stopped going to visit after they never came here. I mean, the ‘it’s too expensive and too far’ works both ways. But I still call mother once a week. That’s what works best for everyone. He keeps her real busy.”

  “So, you get along, you just don’t see each other.”

  “Something like that. I have real good memories of my dad though. It wasn’t like I needed a new dad. Sometimes, I miss him and start getting sad, but then I remember how he always hated to see me or mother sad, and he’d say something to cheer us up. So, I remember those things until I’m not so sad any more. And it’s gotten better with time.”

  “I hear you. Grief isn’t an easy thing at any age. Sounds like you learned how to deal with it really young.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “I’ve lost family members, and I’ve lost men on my team who were like brothers. It’s never easy, but we can’t let it pull us down. We have to keep living. That’s what they’d want us to do.”

  “Yes. We do. I’m glad we’re going shooting today,” Christie said. And she was. Somehow, he’d taken her fear, and by talking about it, had made it a faceable and beatable thing.

  He’s so easy to talk to. That was rare and even rarer in someone she’d just met.

  When they reached the shooting range, he parked the car and then got out to come around and open her door. The range was a long, one-story building with a sign on the front stating the name and no other decoration. A little bit of greenery by the front door entrance, but that was it. She’d never have guessed there was a restaurant inside.

  He opened the door for her, and she got out. Then he went to the trunk and opened it. Inside were two long gun cases, which he pulled out before closing the lid. “I brought a shot gun, a rifle, and two hand guns. We’ll have to let them check the guns once we enter, and then I can show you how they work before we go onto the range.”