little bit of hope for one another’s lives. The bees
would make honey. The flowers would spread.
Slowly, Ava’s heart
resumed its usual rhythm and her grip on Keegan’s hand lost its urgency.
Keegan was right. While
she still didn’t want these creatures anywhere near her house, they looked
almost…graceful…here, in this rose bush.
Suddenly, Moon snapped at
a passing bee, which zipped away before the dog could swallow it whole. “No,
Moon. Those aren’t treats.” Keegan shook his head, but when Ava met his gaze,
they both laughed.
The spell was broken, so
they continued on their way.
Keegan still held onto
her hand.
Chapter 7
Keegan lay in bed that
night, unable to rid his mind of Ava’s innocent question. Did you get them
when they were puppies? It brought him back to the roly-poly days of Sun
and Moon, when they could hardly have protected him from anything and yet
somehow helped to keep the terror at bay. They were tangible gifts of love from
another time when Keegan had tried to be the hero—succeeding only in part.
He hadn’t thought about
that day in months. At least he hadn’t dwelled on it much since then. But as his
mind drifted from his walk with Ava at the rose garden, it all came back to
him.
Eight years ago.
Seventeen years old. A bus stop. A gunman.
Keegan had simply
reacted. The guy was one of his classmates. That year they shared the same
physics class. He sat across the room, always absorbed in his work. Whenever
Keegan happened to see him in his peripheral at lunch, he always had his
headphones on. In his own bubble on the quad.
And now here he was,
holding a gun and threatening to take out everyone at the bus stop. Students.
An older couple. Some twenty-something girl in a Burger King uniform. A
businessman who had been absorbed with his iPad only seconds ago, tie uneven, collar
wrinkled.
Keegan walked in on that
scene, coming down the sidewalk. Saw the terror. Heard the screams as his
classmate shot at the businessman. Tackled the gunman before he could squeeze
the trigger again. Saw the girl dive for the gun and grasp it in shaky hands
while the older man shouted something into his own phone. Straddled his
classmate while the guy spit in his face and thrashed back and forth, up and
down. Bucking and kicking and slamming his head against the pavement until the
police came.
Keegan was hailed a hero.
But all he could see every night he closed his eyes—for months and years—was
the businessman bleeding out. All he could feel was the hatred of his classmate
and the terror of those innocent people at the bus stop. All he could taste was
the tears he cried at the businessman’s memorial service.
Luke Tanner. That was his
name. The name of a husband. A father of two. A son. A brother. A coworker. A
friend.
Gone. Just like that.
A tear slid down the side
of his face and into his ear as he lay there in bed, remembering.
He didn’t fear death. Not
for himself. He believed in Jesus. Believed in heaven. In grace. In hope.
What he feared most of
all was that feeling of helplessness. It still haunted him in public places
like grocery stores and movie theaters and art galleries. What if…? What if he
could do nothing to save the people, to stop the panic?
He clenched the sheet in
his fists. Then sat up, groaning in frustration. Ava brought it all back, and
he wondered if helping her through her fear would make any difference if he had
no control over the fears that might plague her in the future.
What good would it do to
better someone’s life if they could lose it tomorrow?
Somehow, deep down, he
already knew that answer. He’d wrestled with this question years ago. It was
stupid to wrestle with it again and again and again.
But sometimes, that’s
what it takes.
Sliding out of bed, he
got down on his knees, praying. Begging, really. Striving to remember the truth
he’d once come to realize about the value of life—the enormity of it—and how
the light of it
Learning to Kill: Stories