One name changed my whole universe. I couldn’t find his face in my mind, but I could see him—his black hoodie, his slumped shoulders. I heard his voice, shouting through the glass he eventually shot me through, asking for food or money. So many things I could have done differently that night, but I still can’t find myself regretful for the way anything happened. Anytime I started to feel the panic come over me, I placed my hand on my belly and remembered that through all the terrible and scary things I’d been through in the last year, I was still in the best place I could ever imagine: married to, undoubtedly, the most wonderful man ever in creation and carrying his child. Would I do it all over again to make sure I ended up right here, right now? Yes.
I went to the doctor a few times since we learned about Jason Ramie and it was obvious that the stress of the situation was taking a toll on me. My blood pressure was sky high and my energy low. But I wouldn’t let him win. It wasn’t in my nature. Sure, I’d taken a few days to regroup. The stores had to remain closed for a few days to sort out security and I’d let Porter handle all of that—like he’d have it any other way. I took those days to allow myself to feel every emotion that came my way. Fear, pain, panic, guilt—it was all there and it tried to drag me down, tried to force me to throw in the towel.
But then I’d feel my baby move inside me, see my belly move and shift as the life inside me grew and changed, and I made a decision. I was never giving up. Never. I’d fight until there was no fight left in me. So, although I was afraid, I was brave. I went to work every day and distracted myself. Heck, I even found myself laughing eventually. Life went on as it had before, the only difference being that, every once in a while without warning, a flash of fear would shoot through me like lightening.
A man’s voice, a dark shirt, even hearing the name Jason could send me into a momentary lack of composure. The people around me understood and helped me cope but, truth be told, it was getting old. I didn’t want to live in this fear any more. So, when Detective Dillard called me one rainy morning, I was hopeful.
“Hi, Ella. It’s Detective Dillard. Do you have a free moment?”
“Sure. What can I do for you?” I was filing some sales reports in the backroom of Dahlia, sitting at my desk. I felt my heart rate pick up speed, anticipating whatever it was he called to tell me.
“We picked up a man by the name of Jason Ramie last night in Portland. We are pretty confident he’s the man who shot you, but we need you to come to the station to look at a line up. If you can ID him, it will help the case tremendously.”
“You caught him?” I whispered, shocked. Those were words I had given up on hearing.
“We got him, Ella,” he said softly.
“Like, right now? He’s in custody this very moment?” I could hear my voice getting higher, tears stinging my eyes.
“I told you I’d get him. He’s locked up this very moment, Ella, behind bars. He can’t hurt you.”
I exhaled. I let it out. So much more than air came out of me: fear, anxiety, sadness, guilt. It all came rushing out and when I breathed in, I felt lighter. I smiled and a happy tear slid down my face.
“Thank you,” I managed to whimper into the phone.
“No thanks necessary. It’s my job. But I do need you to make your way to the station as soon as possible. The line-up is important.”
“But I don’t remember what he looked like. I won’t be able to identify him.”
“Regardless, it’s still important to try, Ella.” He paused, giving me a moment to absorb everything. “Can you come to Portland today?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“See you then.” He disconnected and I immediately dialed Porter.
“Hey, Babe,” he said in greeting.
“Porter, Dillard just called me.”
“And?” His voice immediately went from happy and light to tense and worried. I had spent a lot of time focused on keeping myself sane and hadn’t paid enough attention to what this had done to my husband. Of course he was always strong and protective, but this had to have been eating away at him.
“He says they’ve caught him.”
“What?” I laughed just a little at his surprise. Surely we’d been living with bad news for so long we’d only come to expect it. Hearing good news was so much of a shock, his first reaction was to assume he’d heard me wrong.
“Yes,” another laugh breaking through. “He says they caught him last night and they want me to go to Portland and try to pick him out in a line up.”
“They caught him?” I heard his emotion through the phone and wanted desperately to hold him in that moment.
“Yes, Baby. They got him.” He took in some deep breaths and let them out, shuttering. Oh, how I wanted to be with him. “Porter, come and get me. Bring me to Portland,” I whispered.
“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.” I laughed because it was an hour’s drive.
“Drive safely, Love.”
True to his word, Porter showed up at Dahlia only fifty minutes later. He walked in, nodded at Chad, the security detail he’d hired, and came straight for me. The next instant I was in his arms, smelling the familiar scent of wood and soap, ready and willing to crawl right inside of him and live there forever.
“Are you ok?” He asked, stroking his hand down my hair.
“I am now.”