Every Mile a Memory

The empty, faux-wood bucket swung loosely in my hand. I was on a mission to find the hotel’s ice machine, located inconveniently, of course, in an obscure location on an opposing floor. But my real mission wasn’t ice. In fact, I rarely put the cold cubes in my beverages. My real reason for the late-afternoon search was to have a moment to myself.

We had been in the Keys for a little more than twenty-four hours. Although I loved the warmth and the relaxing, beachy pace, we had been together practically non-stop. But the thing was, I had become used to solitude and realized now I even kind of craved it.

A tall, built man, most likely around my age, was approaching in the otherwise empty hall. He was flanked by two children—a boy, maybe four years old, and a little girl who did more of a waddle than a toddle. I internally cringed, thinking that now I had to acknowledge them with either a generic stranger “hello” or one of those quick, fake-smile deals. At least my peace and quiet wouldn’t be interrupted that long.

And then it was…in the most violent kind of way. The popping sound was quite recognizable and one that haunted my dreams on a regular basis. It was loud. It was deadly. And it was definitely near.

Just as startled as I was, the man, still many feet in front of me, grabbed the little girl in one of his well-defined arms and started at a quicker pace in my direction. But the boy didn’t follow. He stopped mid-stream and turned toward the obvious gunfire.

“Chance!” The man yelled urgently to the young boy.

Passing the man and little girl, I instinctively went to the startled preschooler. Quickly bending down to his level, I said, “No. No. We need to go this way, all right?”

He looked at me with round, gray, doe-eyes but didn’t move, even when the man again yelled out what I was guessing was his name. Forgetting everything else, I scooped him up in both of my arms and scurried back in the direction I had come. Opening up a room door, the man, with closely cropped, dark auburn hair and significant matching scruff, ushered the little girl inside and turned to me. But as he did, another round went off, even louder it seemed, and I found myself being physically tossed into the hotel room. The door slammed behind us, and I momentarily struggled for breath as the brawny man lay protectively on top of both me and the little boy still snuggled in my arms.

“You okay?” he asked, lifting himself up and looking from me to the kids. “Chance, you all right?”

“I scared.” And he appeared as if he was going to absolutely bawl.

Before the man could respond, we heard another round. Although that time, it was, thankfully, a little more muffled because of the closed quarters. But it threw the tall stranger into an even more protective mode. He went for the loveseat and started to move it toward the door as a blockade.

Getting the children out of the way, I directed them to the wall near the bathroom. “Can you stay here? It’s all right. You can play something called the quiet game.” I encouraged the kids, while trying to get them to sit. “You—”

“I know quiet game.” The little boy’s silent tears seemed to slow as he displayed his pride. “I beat Arinn all the time.”

Assuming every version of the quiet game, something I had been relishing myself just moments before, was similar, I played referee. “Okay. Ready…Set…Go.”

On the word “go,” Chance put one index finger up to his mouth. Had I not been so terrified, I would have laughed. But instead, on the word “go,” I jumped into action, pulling a chair over to contribute in the building of the barrier against the door.

“Your belt,” I said to the guy, who started assisting me with the chair. “Take off your belt.”

“What?”

“Tie it around the hinge. It won’t open.” I watched as, without questioning, he obeyed and unleashed his belt from his black cargo pants. Then a thought erupted in my mind—maybe it was the guy next to me that the shooter was after. “Are they going to try to get in here?”

Strapping the belt around the hinge as told, he said, “I hope not. I have no idea what’s going on. You know as much as I do. It’s better to be prepared.” The genuine tone in his voice and the look in his hazel eyes made me know he was telling the truth.

“Is there anything we can use as a weapon?” I began to look around. “Can you get that curtain rod? I can look for things to throw.”

“If someone gets through this, I’ve got it covered,” he claimed.

I couldn’t help but wonder how much of his statement was machoism, as I actually verbalized, “Well, that’s all good and—”

“Believe me, I got—” He started to interrupt but was cut short by another blast of gunfire.

“I don’t want to play game no more,” Chance immediately whined and, in essence, gave the win to the girl next to him, who was too young to even understand how to play.

“Hey. Hey.” I tried a soothing voice, knowing it was those two little ones who were actually keeping me from freaking out.

When a loud broadcast announcement soared through the hallways warning everyone to stay in their rooms, the guy, who had thrown me into one, approached the kids. “Maybe we should all just get in the bathroom. It’s central, there’s no windows… Who knows where they are and how long it will—”

“I’ll be fine here.” I sat up against the wall with the kids.

“I don’t know…” He crouched down in front of us.

I looked in the direction of the barricaded door. “If they get through that, they’ll get into the bathroom. You do what you want, though.”

“You’re right.”

“Mousey,” the little girl, who I assumed to be Chance’s sister, cried out.

Like dominoes, she looked at me, I looked at the man, and he looked at the boy. “What’s Arinn saying?” he asked Chance.

“Mousey.” The brown-haired boy pointed to the sofa a few feet or so away.

I looked across the room, only then realizing how expansive it really was. It must have been a mini-suite. There was a definite living area separate from the bed. We already had a loveseat and chair up against the door, and there was still a sofa. And, sure enough, sitting on top of it was a white and gray stuffed animal—a mouse. I got up and brought the toy over to the girl, who instantly looked better in its embrace.

When the guy stood up again, like he was on guard, Chance began to whimper, and I broke into Plan B. “You know what we’re gonna do? We’re gonna build a fort—a pillow fort.”

“There no pillow fort!” the little boy exclaimed, as if I’d said the most ridiculous thing.

“Yes, sir,” I claimed. “A pillow and blanket fort. We’re gonna drape it around the sofa and sit under it.” I started to gather the comforter and blanket off the bed. “All of us. You get the pillows,” I directed to Chance, who was happy to be distracted…just as I was.

Only as we began to build the soft structure did I have a second to think. What the hell had just happened? How did I end up in there, and who was I with? As if trying to read my mind, I saw the man staring at me.

“You got good kids,” I offered in exchange, because that was the one thing I knew for sure.

“They’re not mine,” he replied.

“Oh?” I asked slowly.

Crawling underneath the arched covers of the makeshift tent, Chance asked on cue, “Where Daddy?”

“Dada,” Arinn called out as she crawled under, too.

“I’m calling Daddy right now, big guy.” Taking out his phone, the man sat down at the entrance of the tent after I sat partially in, partially out.

Trying to piece together another part of the puzzle called that afternoon, I wondered what the relationship was between the man and the kids. After all, the two little ones seemed so comfortable around their elder. Relatives, perhaps?

“Hey, where are you at?” He spoke into his phone, causing me to listen… as if I had any other choice, being captive in the room. “That close?” he questioned, and then, “Yeah, that’s what I’m—” He listened as the person on the other end was obviously trying to figure out what was going on in the hotel. “Yeah. I’m sure they’re not going to let you through.” Pause. “I don’t know. We’re in my room. Whatever is happening is happening here—close. But we’re all right.” Another break as he listened. “I don’t know. There’s guns and alarms, and they’re telling us to stay in the room.” The guy looked at the kids, who were cuddled up and watching him just as intently as I was. “Of course.” He spoke back into the phone. “They’re fine. We’re just trying to keep them quiet.” And another pause. “Yeah, there was some lady—” He stopped mid-conversation and looked at me in a way where the question was understood.

“Maya,” I offered.

“Maya,” he continued back into the phone. “She was walking down the hall when all of this happened. She helped get Chance in the room. She’s kinda stuck here with us.” He looked back at me, and Chance started to squirm in his direction. “Yeah.” There was another pause and then he said, “Can you talk with Chance?” As the little boy scurried onto the guy’s lap, he passed him the phone. “Here you go, big guy. Talk with your dad.”

“Hi, Daddy. Where Mommy?” Chance asked, and then, after a pause, said, “Hi, Mommy. I all right.” He listened some more. “Arinn all right. I good big brother.” And with that response, one of my questions was put to rest—the two were definitely siblings. “I play quiet game and built a big pillow and blankie fort.” He looked at me then with pride. “Yeah, it loud.” He looked at the man, who seemed to flash a surge of sadness for the kids’ suffering. “Uh-huh. Daddy, you sing me dat song?”

I watched as the little boy swayed a little in the man’s lap, and Arinn cuddled next to me with the stuffed mouse. Chance was obviously listening to some song because there were occasional words in lyric form coming from his mouth. It was a song I thought I recognized, but there weren’t enough continuous words to make a clear identification.

“I love you, too,” he said into the phone as the swaying stopped. “I love you, too, Mommy.” There was another pause and then he concluded with an “okay” before handing the phone back to its owner.

“Finn?” Speaking into the phone, the man identified the person on the other end. “No, I don’t think it has anything to do with you. Just wrong place, wrong—”

He was still talking, but I was mentally backtracking. He had called the daddy by the name Finn, and the song Chance had been singing…I knew the country singer was in town. That had to be it. Those were Finn Murphy’s kids.

When I regained focus, I heard him say, “Stay put. When it’s clear—all clear—I’ll wait for you to come to us. Tell your wife they are fine.” He listened for a second and then said, “I know. I hear her crying, man.” There was another pause before he said, “I know. You know I got this. Nothing’s gonna happen.” He nodded toward the kids when he said it. “All right. Holler back if you hear something.” After he hung up, he looked at me soothing Arinn’s hair. “You’re good with kids. You must have some?”

“No.” I swallowed and felt like I should give maybe a little more explanation. But all I said was, “Just like them.”

“Hmmm,” was his even shorter response, followed by, “They said there are police cars in front of the hotel. So whatever is going on, it’s being handled.”

“Hawk?” Still in his lap, Chance helped me finally identify the man’s name.

“Yeah?” Hawk answered.

“Daddy say I his brave little man.”

“That you are, buddy.”

Arinn started to amuse herself by belly flopping up and down on one of the pillows on the floor. So Chance decided simultaneously to do the same thing next to his sister. It provided giggles not only from the kids but from us adults as well. So much for quiet.

As the kids continued to play, Hawk said to me, “You’re also good with crisis management.”

“My husband was a cop.” I breathed in. “We actually met when he came to teach a safety class at my work.”

“Oh, that explains it.” He followed with, “Is he here? Do you need to call him?” He then paused, obviously thinking of our immediate situation. “Do you think he’s helping out with this?”

“No.” My one-word response essentially answered all three questions. And then came the explanation, which had gotten easier over those past months but still always caught my breath. “He died last year.”

Hawk looked first at my bare left hand and then at my right, where I had moved my wedding band about nine months after Jeff’s death. I hadn’t wanted to remove it completely. But leaving it on “the” ring finger seemed like a lie—a lie to myself—like I thought there was still some kind of hope that everything had been a horrific nightmare and he was coming back. I could get away with wearing that simple gold band engraved with a heart symbol and our initials. But the raised diamond engagement ring, I could not. That was tucked away safely with some of my grandmother’s jewelry I never wore.

I found myself playing with the ring as Hawk, obviously recognizing what it was, said, “Sorry.”

I had been hearing that for twelve plus months. No one ever knew what to say. And it seemed even harder when the deceased was so young and in a noble career such as Jeff’s. I had thought it had slowed down—the condolences, the sad looks—until the one-year anniversary of his death happened. And then the department organized a candlelight vigil where people could pray for and share stories of Jeff all over again. His family and I appreciated all the support, but I also had been finding my way out in more positive than somber ways. The vacation to the Keys was actually one of them.

I bailed my fellow captee out. “I should call my friends, though. We’re on a girls getaway.”

When he nodded in agreement, I realized I didn’t have my cell phone. Why would I have needed it? I was going on a little walk a floor away. I certainly hadn’t brought my phone. I had stuck the room key in my shorts pocket, thrown on flip-flops which matched my T-shirt, and had been off. I should have known…nothing was ever easy.

I used the hotel phone to call directly to Juanita and Sophia in our room. We didn’t talk long. I just wanted to let them know where I was and to make sure they we were both safe and secure. When I got off the phone, I saw that Hawk was busy on his cell phone, texting. I sat back down with the kids and tried to alleviate some of the excessive pillow-bouncing energy by making up a story. There were superheroes and mice and little boys and little girls in it. Hawk tried jumping in every so often, but he was actually more of a third child listening, which was kind of amusing in itself.

And then the story came to an abrupt halt. It had been a little while since the last loud crackle of gunfire. But there it was again…at least three pops. And that time, admittedly, I jumped. Probably because, for the tiniest of seconds, I had actually let myself slightly relax.

Noticing, Hawk confirmed my name. “Maya, is it?”

“Yeah.”

“You good?” he asked, but immediately followed up with a confident, “We’re all right.”

“Yeah. I just…I wish it wasn’t gunfire and police,” I admitted.

“Crap, yeah. Did he die…”

Again, it was something even harder for others to say to me than for me to actually articulate. “In the line of duty,” I finished for him. “I’m good. Let’s concentrate on these cute kids.” I tried to change the subject for all four of our sakes. “Talk about being good with kids,” I said, referring to his easy demeanor with Chance and Arinn.

His right eye narrowed slightly as if he was trying to figure me out…trying to figure out if I really was all right after that latest round of gunfire. When I didn’t speak again, he decided to go with my kid topic. “Yeah, because I’m like a grandparent. I give them back after a little bit,” he joked.

“Not my grandma,” I replied.

And while we got Chance to play on Hawk’s tablet and I rocked Arinn a little bit, I somehow ended up telling the story of my life. I started with the fact that my father died in a car crash when I was four, which Hawk confirmed was also Chance’s age…and that Arinn was one-and-a-half. I then explained that my mother died suddenly just about a year after my father. It was technically an aneurysm, although most people claimed it was a broken heart. She never recovered from the loss of my dad. Both sets of grandparents fought over my custody—as if being a freshly minted orphan wasn’t bad enough. My dad’s parents lived in Canada, which was just too much upheaval. So my mom’s mom, who lived near us in Maryland, got me. And she never let me go until she, herself, died when I was twenty-six.

“God, you’ve lived it, huh?” was Hawk’s response to my tale.

“And only in my mid-thirties.” I looked down at a soft-murmuring Arinn in my arms.

“No brothers or sisters, then?”

“No.” I paused, but then thought, why not? We needed to talk about something. It helped distract me from being entombed in the closed-off room. “My mom was pregnant when my dad died. They had just found out. But the grief of him leaving…forever…was too much. She miscarried.”

“Mmmm,” he murmured, and then redirected with another question. “Still live in Maryland?”

And I wondered if he, too, was doing it to keep both of our minds off what was happening down the hall, which, thankfully, had not involved any more gunshots.

Regardless, I answered. “Yeah.”

“What do you do there?” was his next question.

I went on to explain my career choice. I had worked in small-press publishing doing promo work for authors. It was a lot of getting the word out through blogging, hosting online parties, and the like. But when Jeff died, there was so much litigation to deal with—the trial that ended in a plea, the press, the money, the remembrances—I had to quit. It wasn’t fair to the authors.

“I’m doing general secretarial temp jobs now but would like to get back into doing something like that again. And you…?” I prompted, still trying to figure out his connection to Finn Murphy.

But just as I did, another hallway announcement boomed from the speakers. However, that time, it was a much more positive one. The hotel management was thanking the guests for their patience and letting us know we were free to exit our rooms.

Hawk immediately got off the floor and started moving the furniture away from the doorway. I offered to help, but he insisted I stay, since Arinn was slumbering so peacefully in my arms. Plus, he didn’t seem to need the help. No sooner was everything back in semi-order then there was a knock at the door. I watched as, still showing caution, he peered through the peep hole and then opened the door to whoever was on the other side.

There was no mistaking him. Sure enough, it was Finn Murphy who scurried through the door alongside a strawberry blond woman with turquoise eyes. Because of the circumstances and a few online articles, I recognized her as Finn’s wife. Although, I could not immediately remember her name.

Finn did the briefest of looks around the room and patted Hawk’s shoulder in that man kind of way before Chance yelled out, “Mommy, Daddy!” He ran into his mom’s hug before bounding into Finn’s arms.

I stood up and carefully handed Arinn to her mom. “She went to sleep about ten minutes ago.”

Eyes damp, she held on tight to the toddler. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

“You guys all right?” Finn, who had a comparable hold on Chance, took another look around the room while ruffling his little boy’s similarly-hued brown hair. “Everybody okay?”

“Yeah,” Hawk answered. “Pretty much unscathed.”

Extending his hand out to me, the country music star said, “Hi. Sorry you got caught up in all of this.”

Reciprocating the handshake, I tried to make light of the horrific situation. “Last time I go searching for the ice machine.”

“Well, you couldn’t have been in safer hands.” He bro-punched Hawk on the chest.

“The gal does pretty good for herself.” Hawk looked over at me and then back to Finn. “And she was a big help with the kids.”

“Thanks. I’m Lara, by the way.” Mrs. Murphy smiled my direction but didn’t let go even the slightest bit of her child.

“Maya,” I offered. “And no problem. They’re sweet.”

“Whatcha hear?” Hawk nodded his chin up to Finn.

Finn set down his mini-me son and spoke slightly lower. “Some nutcase went loco and started shooting up the place.”

“Casualties?” Hawk’s blunt question made me cringe.

But Finn’s answer surprised me. “No.”

“Really?” The word burst out of my mouth before I realized I was interrupting a sort of private conversation.

Neither guy seemed to mind, though. Finn turned slightly and answered me. “He was literally shooting up the room, the hall, but not anyone. The cops got him detained.”

“No one was hurt?” I needed that double-check. When Finn shook his head to confirm, I blew out some air I hadn’t realized I had been holding in. I knew it was a reflection of everything I had been through with Jeff…even before his death, but I couldn’t help it.

“Maya—” Hawk started.

But I didn’t want to hear him say what I was sure he was going to. Even though we had only known each other for a short period of time, he knew what my exhale meant. There was no need to relive it.

“I should probably get back to my friends,” I interrupted.

“Yeah. Sure,” Finn replied. “Thanks for your help with whatever.”

I brought my attention down to the main star of the afternoon. “Bye, Chance.” I bent down to his level and stuck out my hand for a shake. “You are the best fort builder I’ve ever seen.”

“I is not! You are!” he exclaimed and gave me a high five instead of a handshake—even cooler.

Laughing, I turned toward the door where Hawk seemed to still be standing guard. “Thanks,” I said as he opened it.

“Not sure which way you’re going,” Finn interjected, causing me to turn his direction again. “But making a right out of here is off limits. It really was just down the hall a bit.”

Hopefully my shudder was undetectable, but I guess not because Hawk said to Finn, “You be here? I’ll just make sure she gets back.”

“Absolutely,” was the answer.

“You don’t need to. I can manage.”

The only response I got was Hawk extending his arm out in the sign for me to lead the way out the door. I did so, and we both continued left out of the hall. Luckily, it was the direction of the stairwell to my room, anyway.

After a minute or so, Hawk said, “Some girls’ getaway, huh?”

“Yeah, and here I thought the main event would be the concert,” I joked.

“You’re here for the concert?” He stopped in his tracks.

“Yeah,” I answered plainly.

“You know who that was in there, right?”

Sure. It was Finn Murphy. He was the main reason we had chosen the late March dates and the Keys as our destination.

But my response was again, “Yeah.”

“Hmmm.”

What did he expect? Did he think I was going to be one of those women in the whatever era Elvis was in and swoon? Even though the authors I dealt with were nowhere near Finn Murphy’s celebrity status, I was used to famous people and—

Juanita’s screeching voice interrupted my inner one right there in the middle of the hall. “Maya! Holy shit! Are you okay?”

“We heard it was on this floor!” Sophia, Jeff’s sister, joined in.

“Everything’s fine,” I answered, while giving them both a hug. “You guys?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” they seemed to say simultaneously. In that moment, the two women acted like twins with their over-the-top expressions and demeanor. But physically, they couldn’t have looked more different. Juanita was taller, with silky straight black hair, and Sophia, who had the same palest of blue eyes as her brother had, was topped with the curliest of red hair.

I turned to my temporary escort. “I think I’m good from here.”

“Yep. Guess so.” Hawk slid his hands into his pockets and said, “See ya around, Maya.”

“I guess you never know.” I crinkled my nose and gave a little smile.

I had just gone through a life-and-death scenario with basically only that guy. And I most likely—well, for sure—would never see him again. How strange. I felt like I should have said something more, but the opportunity was taken away as my two closest friends pulled at my arms and started leading me back to our room.