Mending Hearts (15 page)

“
Is everything all
right?” 

“
James became ill during
recess, and he needs to be picked up.” 

“
Ok, I’m leaving now. Thank
you.” 

“
He’ll be in the nurse’s
office. It’s down the hall from the cafeteria.” 

“
All right, thank
you.” 

I call Alec before I leave.

“
Hi, Emma.” 

“
I know you’re busy, I just
wanted to tell you that the school called, and James is sick. I’m
leaving work to go and get him.” 

“
I’m leaving for lunch as
soon as I see my last patient; I can get him.” 

“
Are you
sure?” 

“
I’m sure; we’re kind of
slow today.” 

“
This works out great for me
because we are swamped here for some reason. I’ll call mom and let
her know you’ll be dropping him off soon.” 

“
Ok, Emma. I love
you.” 

“
I love you,
too.” 

The bell over the front door alerts us that
someone is entering the office. When I look up, I am shocked to see
Angel walking through the door with food. I rush over to help
her.

“
Are you supposed to be
driving?” I ask, although I know the answer.
Anyone who has had a C-section is not supposed to drive for
several weeks after childbirth.

“
Mason’s at work, the twins
are in the hospital, and I have to drive to see them. So yes, if I
want to visit the babies, I am supposed to drive myself.” She walks
towards the break room and says, “I have to eat, so I thought we
can eat together before I go to the hospital.” 

“
As much as we love seeing
you and as much as we love when you bring our favorite deli
sandwiches, we really do wish you would take your doctor’s advice
and not drive,” Brea says on behalf of all of us in the office.
“Sit down and we’ll get the drinks and food
ready.” 

“
Are you feeling all right?
You look a little flushed,” Sara says. 

“
I’m fine. I just want to
get the twins home and start being a family. I hate leaving them at
the hospital and they won’t let me stay there with them,” Angel
says sadly. 

I say, “It’s because Momma needs her rest,
too.”

“
I know, but it doesn’t make
it any easier leaving them.” 

Brea answers her cell phone, and Sara and I
sit down with Angel to eat. Angel tells us that her daughter’s name
is Ana Maria. She explains she is named after her deceased mother,
Ana, and after her Aunt Maria.

“
That is a beautiful name,”
I say, honestly. “What did you name your son?” 

“
After fighting with Mason,
he finally caved in. We named him Alex Mason. What is it with guys
thinking they don’t deserve to have their sons named after
them?” 

“
I don’t know. Max was like
that, too.” 

“
That drives me crazy. Mason
is a great man, and he feels his son deserves…” 

“
To be named after a hero?”
I ask, before she can complete her sentence. 

“
Yes, exactly.”

Brea walks over to join us and asks, “Does
Mason know you’re here, Angel?” 

“
Yes, he told me to drive
carefully,” she says as she takes a bite of her food, not looking
at Brea. 

“
Really? Guess who was on
the phone?” 

“
Vincent?” Angel asks, still
not making eye contact with anyone. 

“
Nope, good try. That was
Mason and he’s furious that you left the house alone.
He said he went to work early this morning because
of a minor emergency and when you didn’t answer your phone he knew
that you drove to the hospital, alone.” 

“
He must have forgotten that
I was going to the hospital today.” 

Brea sits down and as she reaches for her
turkey sandwich on wheat bread and says, “If you’re not supposed to
be driving, you shouldn’t be driving. I could have picked you up
this morning before work.” 

“
You’re busy; besides, I
feel fine. Today is the first day I didn’t have a ride.”

I remember the mixed emotions I had after
childbirth. Although I can’t relate to being separated from James
after birth, I do remember the overwhelming need I had to protect
him. 

“
Angel, I’m sorry, I didn’t
think about you not being able to drive or that you would need help
getting to and from the hospital. I haven’t been a very good friend
to you,” I say. 

“
We haven’t, either,” Brea
and Sara say in unison.

“
I’ve been so wrapped up
with my own life. I should have been there more for you,” Sara
says. “With the wedding plans and work, I have just been so busy.
I’m sorry, Angel.” 

Brea sets her sandwich down and says, “Me
too. I should have been there for you. I’m sorry. I know how
difficult it is after childbirth.” 

“
You guys are great friends.
It’s not like you can see the twins anyway.” 

Chapter Five: Life-Changing Event(s)

Alec

I drive to the school listening to a John
Legend C.D. that Emma got me. She said his music reminds her of me.
He has recently become my new favorite artist because of her
comment.

After I park the car, I check in at the
front desk and the student aide tells me James is in the nurse’s
station, down the hall past the cafeteria. While I’m here, I decide
to get Raelynn, too. She tells me that Raelynn is having lunch in
the cafeteria. I put the paper I.D. on; it sticks to my scrubs. It
is now visible for the faculty to see who I am and that I have
permission to be on campus. It’s an easy way to I.D. non-faculty
members who are on school property. A peel-and-stick I.D. Badge is
very efficient. The schools over the years have been making safety
changes to make it easier to identify people who don’t belong on
the school grounds. 

Raelynn

James got sick at school today and he is in
the nurse’s office waiting on Daddy to pick him up. I usually sit
with him at the lunch table, but not today.

“
Tommy, do you want my
applesauce?” 

“
Yeah, thanks. I love
applesauce.” We always trade part of our lunch, whatever we don’t
like, with the other kids at the table. 

The lunchroom is noisy, it’s always noisy at
lunch. Heather, Jenni, Nichole, Heaven, and Hunter join us at the
table. We laugh and giggle through our meal. These are my friends
and we always play together at recess.

“
Where’s James at?” Heaven
asks. 

“
He’s sick. He’s waiting on
Daddy to pick him up. He’s in the nurse’s office.” 

“
Did he throw up?” Hunter
asks.

“
I don’t know. He has a
tummy ache.” 

I look at Tommy; he is smiling at me. Tommy
always pulls my hair at recess and Nichole says it’s because he
likes me. I don’t like boys. They’re gross.

I hear a loud noise and look up from the
table. Mrs. Hernandez is crying. Some bad man hits her, and she
falls to the ground. He has a gun and yells, “SOMEONE IS GOING TO
DIE!” I watch as the kids start to hide under the tables. I quickly
scoot under the table and pull on the pant legs of my friends to
join me. Tommy is already under here. His dad is a cop, and I’m
sure he told Tommy what to do if a bad man is near.

I hear more screaming and I cover my ears.
I’m scared and the bad man is saying bad words. He looks mean and
scary. Even with my ears covered, I can still hear him. I can see
his legs and dirty shoes from under the table but I can’t see his
face. I don’t want to see his face. When I hear a loud noise and
more bad words, I pee myself. I am crying and I can’t stop. The bad
man is kicking tables over that the kids are hiding under.

“
WHO WANTS TO DIE FIRST?” he
yells. 

“
We have to run,” Tommy
whispers. 

I shake my head. “I
can’t.”
I peed my panties and the kids will
know.

“
The bad man will see us and
he will kill us,” Tommy says.

Tommy takes my hand, and when the bad man
gets closer to our table, Tommy pulls me with him and we run with
all the other kids to another table to hide under. I close my eyes
and keep my head down. I can’t look; I don’t want to see. I keep my
hands covering my ears, but I can still hear the screaming and
crying coming from the kids and from the adults.

Emma

An announcement comes across the radio about
the Manatee County schools. “Hold on,” Brea says as she tries to
hear the news announcement.

The announcement says that the Manatee
County Schools are on lockdown because a gunman has entered the
cafeteria of one of the elementary schools. It doesn’t say the name
of the school, but it says police have set up a command center at a
local community center and that all parents are urged to stay away
from the schools and to go to the command center for updates.

“
Oh, my God! My kids are at
school,” I cry. “I have to go.” 

“
Wait a minute, Emma.” Brea
walks to the television and turns it on to the local news station.
A news reporter is standing outside giving an update. Under her on
the lower part of the television is the address for the community
center’s command post. I stare at the screen and I see a helicopter
hovering over James and Raelynn’s school. “They’re at the kids’
school! The gunman is at James and Raelynn’s school and Alec went
to the school to get James. I run to my desk and get the car keys
out of the drawer. “I have to go.” 

“
Emma, wait up,” Brea says.
“I’m coming with you. Angel, stay here with Sara.” 

Angel stands and says, “I will. You guys be
careful.” 

Alec

Walking down the long hallway leading to the
cafeteria, I hear commotion coming from inside. I back away from
the door and stand near the brick wall and listen. I hear yelling,
cursing, and then screaming. I call 911 and whisper quickly,
“There’s a gunman at Westborn Elementary School, come quick.” Since
I can’t talk for fear of being heard, I leave my phone on and place
it back into my scrub pocket. Slowly, I walk closer to the
cafeteria door and pray the 911 operator can hear the chaos.

I can see some kids are hiding on the floor
under their tables. I also see a few cafeteria workers standing
around the room. “Please, just don’t hurt the children,” I hear a
woman say, right before she screams out in pain. I watch as a man
dressed in a black hoodie walks back and forth in front of the
doorway. He is holding a shotgun with one hand and has the older
woman by the hair with his other. I scan the room as quickly as I
can before he sees me.

There is only one thing for
me to do and I pray it goes well. There isn’t much time to execute
a foolproof plan so this will have to work. Two large double doors
lead into the cafeteria. I walk quietly down the hall to the other
set of doors. I need to see how many gunmen are in the room. I see
Raelynn hiding under a table; she looks like she is crying. All of
the kids under the tables appear to be huddled together for
support. The kids all have their heads bowed and thankfully aren’t
looking around the room.
Good. The less
they see, the better it is for them.

I quickly scan the room and see only the one
gunman. A shadow is moving on the floor, so I back away from the
door. The lone gunman yells something and the room erupts with
screams from very small children. I peek in and he is still holding
his gun with one hand, pulling the woman’s hair with his other
hand, and is now kicking over one of the tables that the kids took
shelter under. I watch sadly as the kids cry and crawl across the
floor, on their hands and knees to hide under another table. The
man curses and threatens to start killing the kids.

Deciding it’s now or never, I pray that this
works. As I slowly open one of the large double doors, I pray that
it doesn’t squeak and make my presence be known before I am ready.
I hold my index finder to my mouth to hush anyone who sees me. The
noise from the screaming kids and from the metal folding tables
being thrown onto the concrete floors in the cafeteria have
concealed the noise from the squeaky door if in fact it even
squeaked. The adrenaline is prevalent in my sweaty palms, my racing
heart, and my belief that I feel I can kill this man with my bare
hands. I have never been more grateful for being a black belt as I
am right now. 

I have had two minutes to
plan my move, and right before he kicks over the
next table I chose now to put it in action. I
figure that as he raises his leg to kick the table over, it will be
when he is most vulnerable. It’ll be the best chance of him losing
his balance, falling to the ground, and dropping his weapon. The
kids scurry across the floor before he even approaches the table.
As he raises his leg to kick the table over, the gun is pointed
toward the ceiling, I move quickly behind him, jump, and kick him
dead center in his back. He lets go of the woman’s hair and drops
his weapon in an attempt to brace his fall. I land on my feet and
yell “RUN!” before I wrestle the now-unarmed man. 

I kick the gun out of the way before I lunge
onto the gunman’s chest. I don’t see or hear the kids as the
adrenaline has taken over my body. I can focus only on beating the
shit out of this asshole who already has harmed or who was here to
harm these small innocent children. I throw punches as I try to
remain on top of him. If I get up, he’ll have a chance to run for
the gun. As I punch him, my hand no longer makes firm contact — now
it just slides across his face. I look at him and look at my hand
and it is slippery with blood. I try to get my bearings and soon
realize the gunman is motionless beneath me. I wait for him to
move, but he doesn’t. I slowly lean back, but I don’t get up. I pin
his hands to the ground, sit on his chest, and wait for help. I
look around the room and I am pleased to see the cafeteria workers
are assisting the last of the children out of the room. I wipe the
sweat from my brow with my sleeve of my shirt. The door opens and
in rushes the S.W.A.T. team. The initials stand for “Special
Weapons and Tactics Team.” I raise my hands in the air to let them
know I mean no harm.