Passion in Portland 2016 Anthology Read online

  www.passioninportland.com

  First Kindle Edition, May 2016

  © 2016 ABC’s Legacy, LLC

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements

  Having the idea to publish an anthology is one thing. Actually publishing an anthology is something entirely different. It involves lots and lots of work from lots and lots of people, all donating their time and talents because all proceeds will be going to a very good cause.

  When the idea of an anthology was suggested in our attending author group for Passion in Portland 2016, the response was nothing short of overwhelming. The generosity of these amazing women was truly heartfelt. Knowing that they would have to write a story and then pay the out-of-pocket expenses, such as editing and proofing, we had over twenty authors jump at the chance to have their stories included. To them we say THANK YOU! Your commitment and kindness to this wonderful cause is appreciated beyond words. <3

  Of course, when creating an anthology for charity, there must be an organization worthy of the countless hours of work and dedication to raise funds to aid in their mission. Bradley Angle is such an organization. I have had the opportunity to meet many of the staff and learn of the wonderful work they do in the Pacific Northwest. They “serve anyone affected by domestic violence. (They) value the dignity and personal story of everyone who comes to (them) for support, and respect that survivors should have control over their own lives.” We are proud and honored to donate the proceeds from the sale of this anthology to them in furthering their efforts to help and support those affected by domestic violence.

  And finally, there is no point of putting in this much work to a project if there is no one to read it. Thank you to all of you who have supported us and Bradley Angle by purchasing this anthology. We hope that you love the stories contained in these pages and are grateful for your donation to aid the survivors of domestic violence.

  AJ Harmon & Heather Carver, Passion in Portland Event hosts

  Bradley Angle

  Bradley Angle’s mission is to serve all people affected by domestic violence. We do this by placing people experiencing—or at risk of—domestic violence at the center of our services and providing them with safety, education, empowerment, healing, and hope.

  Bradley Angle embraces the following values in all that we do:

  • We believe that everyone has a right to live free from violence and abuse.

  • We value the dignity and personal story of everyone who comes to us for support.

  • We believe that survivors of domestic violence should be treated respectfully and have control over their own lives.

  • Our services are inclusive and accessible to survivors of diverse cultures, backgrounds, experiences, and lifestyles.

  • Our services build on the strength and resilience of survivors.

  • We work collaboratively whenever and wherever possible.

  • We involve the community in our work because we know that domestic violence doesn’t just impact individuals and families—it affects every one of us.

  • We acknowledge current and historical inequities and work towards ending oppression.

  Bradley Angle is constantly learning and evolving as we strive to end to domestic violence.

  24 HOUR CRISIS LINE - 503.235.5333

  For more information, please go to http://bradleyangle.org/

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Bradley Angle

  Stay With Me – A.J. Downey

  Falling Backwards – A.K. Layton

  Mr. Wright Write Right – AJ Harmon

  Chaser – Alex Rosa

  Kiss Cam – Anie Michaels

  Honest Liar – Anna Brooks

  To Portland, With Love – Cassia Leo

  Kind of Crazy – Eliza Boyd

  Poker in Portland – Gretchen S.B.

  Stronger – Heather Carver

  Love at First Crepe – Heidi Renee Mason

  When in Portland – Jaycee Ford

  The Soviet and the Scientist – Kimberly Kennedy

  Port in the Storm – Mary Crawford

  Shy – Morgan & Jennifer Locklear

  Forever Yours – Nicole Richard

  Chasing Leigh – R.J. Van Cleave

  The Ephemeral – Sarah M. Cradit

  We Have Portland – Sidonia Rose

  Love in Government Camp – Stace Lee

  Stay With Me – A.J. Downey

  Corrine Tate is dying. Dominic Shepard saves her. It’s his job as an EMT and Paramedic for the city of Portland, Oregon. Neither of them expected the lasting impression they made on one another, or that it would linger on for so long. A chance encounter with some of Dominic’s compatriots leads to a reunion months later.

  Once, Dominic asked Corrine to stay with him, the night she was nearly lost, will they forge something from the ashes of that night and stay together now?

  One

  Dominic Shepard…

  “Thirty-two, thirty-two, we have a report of a domestic disturbance in the 4100 block of north east 128th avenue. Adult female approximately twenty years of age, stabbed multiple times. Police are on scene, code four, trauma activation.”

  “Oh, shit. That sounds like some bad business.”

  I reached across to the dash and picked up the mic to the radio from the passenger seat, queuing it up, “Dispatch this is thirty-two, thirty-two, we copy and are en route.” I let go of the mic and looked over at my partner who’d hit the sirens and lights, “This one’s going to be ugly,” I stated flatly, which was a shame, because it’d been a quiet night so far. At least it was a code four, which meant police were on the scene and the scene was secure.

  The location was in the Hawthorne neighborhood; one of the more dangerous neighborhoods in Portland, Oregon and when we arrived, it was outside a large, dilapidated house that’d been turned into apartments. I grabbed my bag and headed upstairs; my partner, Ray Thomas, right on my heels. When I pushed through the open apartment door past a uniformed cop, it was to a soundtrack that was mixed screaming from a dude on his stomach in cuffs and the ragged crying breathing of his victim, on her back in a pool of blood on the living room carpet.

  Shit. This was bad. I laid the back board beside her and started cutting the blood soaked rag of her shirt off.

  “She has a deep lac to the side of her neck, stab wounds to the upper anterior, looks like left side of her chest…” I let Ray speak into his mic, radioing to dispatch, all the information I was going to have to repeat once we were in the back of the bus. I looked into the woman’s eyes and faltered. They were a soft lavender and I was close enough to see that they weren’t contacts. I confirmed this when I shone my light into each one, speaking as I worked.

  “You’re okay, Baby. I’m here to help.” I told her, and she tried to nod.

  “No, no, no! Don’t move your head, Honey,” Ray said and she flinched. Her boyfriend or husband was shouting and screaming at her.

  “You aren’t going to leave, me! I’m going to fucking kill you! I’m going to fucking kill you, you bitch!”

  “Shut up!” the cop bellowed and stomped on his ass. I made a hard mental note that I didn’t see nothin’ as I wished the cop had stomped on the fucker’s head.

  The girl, whose eyes I found it hard to look away from began to keen; a broken, frightened, sorrowful sound
that was one of those noises I heard in my line of work that would forever brand itself on a part of my soul.

  “One, two, three, up!”

  Ray and I lifted her as one onto the gurney and rolled her out into the cold, January night. Not even a week into the new year for her… damn.

  I looked down startled when she gripped my hand and those eyes of hers swallowed me whole again.

  I asked her, “What’s your name, Baby?”

  Two

  Corrine Tate…

  “Corrine.”

  The paramedic got into the back of the ambulance with me, his partner climbing up right behind him.

  “Okay Corrine, my name is Dominic and I’m gonna help you, okay?”

  “It hurts, it’s hard to breathe…”

  “I know, Baby. You’re going to feel a stick, I’m sorry but don’t move, okay?”

  He had my arm across his lap, leaning over it, I held still, even though it hurt.

  “Good! Good job Corrine. Can you tell me what happened?” a police officer was back here now, too; note pad open. I closed my eyes; I could feel tears leaking into my hair and I opened them. Dominic’s soft, grey eyes met mine.

  “Richie stabbed me, I told him that we weren’t working. He got angry and then there was a flash… it all happened so fast. Th-then I was bleeding and screaming and the police were kicking in the door.” It was so hard to breathe. I panted, gasping for air and asked him, “Dominic, am I going to die?”

  “Not if we can help it,” he said grimly and then just as somberly said, “This is going to hurt, you scream, you cry, you do whatever it is you have to do.” He placed something over the part of my chest that was all wrong and pressed down, hard. I howled and bit my bottom lip, sobbing. I was afraid, I was so very afraid.

  Dominic smoothed some of my deep auburn hair back from my face and smiled down at me, “You’re doing good Corrine, you just gotta stay with me, okay?”

  “We’ve gotta Jam,” his partner said and shooed the policeman out the back doors before jumping down himself. I jumped when the doors slammed which sent searing pain through my chest. I gasped and struggled to breathe while Dominic pressed another bandage to the side of my neck.

  “Hang on, Baby, stay with me,” he uttered and it was comforting.

  “P-p-promise I’m n-n-n-not going to d-die.” I was shivering now, and realized I was cold, so very cold.

  “Not on my watch,” he muttered and picked up a radio, calling out a bunch of esoteric medical jargon into the apparatus. I closed my eyes.

  “Corrine! Corrine, Baby, you gotta stay awake for me, can you stay awake for me?” his hand was warm in mine, the texture of his blue gloves foreign.

  “I’m awake… I’m awake…” I stared at him; he was beautiful, handsome and so nice to look at. Kindness and concern radiated from his gray eyes. His black hair he kept short and gelled into spikes. I reached up and touched the side of his face and his hand appeared, grasping mine.

  “Just stay with me…”

  Three

  Corrine Tate…

  Six Months Later…

  Crying. Crying woke me up and it wasn’t unusual here. A lot of us woke up crying in the middle of the night. It sounded like Hayley was having a panic attack again. It also sounded bad this time. I got up and ghosted down the hall to her room.

  There were seven of us who lived here, at the New Beginnings house. It was a domestic violence shelter for women, to help us transition back out into the world. I’d been here two and a half months and was nearing the end of my stay. I’d been in the hospital for over three months and had undergone numerous surgeries because of what Richie had done. He was in jail, and would likely stay there until he stood trial… whenever that was.

  I found Hayley in with Ruth, Marta and Sandra and she didn’t look good. She was hyperventilating.

  Ruth looked up, “We called an ambulance for her, we can’t get her to calm down this time, can you show them back when they get here?” she asked me. I nodded and went out front, opening the front door to the house and listening to the distant but approaching siren.

  I’d thought about him a lot since that night and any time we’d needed to call an ambulance, I’d wished and hoped he would show up, so I could thank him. This was the third time, and it was likely that Hayley wouldn’t be coming back. She was too much of a disruption to the household they’d told her. I half felt sorry for her and half didn’t. She kept going to the jail on visiting day to see her boyfriend. I kept her secret, but it was dangerous for all of us.

  The ambulance pulled up, and I strained to see… ah… a woman and a man, no Dominic. My heart fell. I showed them back to Hayley and went back to the living room, hugging myself in my thin cardigan, curling up on the couch and waiting. Waiting to see if they took Hayley again or if she would calm down so we could all try to go back to sleep.

  Ten minutes went by, then twenty, then thirty. The paramedics came back out and looked tired. Hayley had calmed down. I held the door for them and murmured my thanks. They smiled at me and went back down to their truck.

  “Wait!” I called down to them, and heart pounding, went down the front steps after them. They waited patiently, looking at me expectantly and I swallowed hard.

  “Do you know Dominic?” I asked.

  “Shepard? Yeah, why?” the man said.

  I swept my long hair aside and moved my sweater so he could see the scars and his and his partner’s smiles dimmed, eyes dulling with sympathy.

  “Do you think you could give him a note for me?”

  They exchanged a look and finally, the man nodded. “Sure,” he handed me a scrap piece of paper and his pen and I fetched them up against the side of his truck, scribbling quickly but legibly. I folded the paper into quarters and wrote ‘Dominic’ across it and handed both the note and pen back to him.

  “Thank you.”

  The female paramedic smiled at me, “Don’t mention it, Honey.”

  Four

  Dominic Shepard…

  “Yo, Dominic!”

  I looked up and gave a chin lift to Mike Avery, another medic on the night shift.

  “What’s up, Buddy?” I asked him and he whisked a square of paper out of his breast pocket like he was doing some kind of magic trick.

  “Special delivery.”

  I took it from him and saw my name scrawled across it in hasty but delicate writing.

  “What is this, man?”

  “Open it,” he said grinning, and I unfolded the page.

  Dear Dominic,

  I wanted to say thank you for saving my life. I work at ‘Common Grounds’ coffee on Burnside. Please come in, so I can buy you a cup?

  Corrine

  “Holy shit, it’s the girl with the eyes,” I told Ray, who was looking over my shoulder.

  “Who?” he asked frowning.

  “That apartment, back in January, the domestic dispute – he stabbed her and was on the floor in cuffs cussin’ and screaming at her while we were trying to stabilize her and get her out?”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah! I remember now. You said she had funky colored eyes or something.”

  “Light purple.”

  “Yeah! That was it. Man,” he shook his head, “She’s one of the ones that really stuck with you, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, yeah she is.”

  “Cool deal,” Mike stuffed his hands in his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet.

  “Yo, Mike!” his partner called, and he turned.

  “Glad I could help,” he said and wandered back over to his truck.

  “You gonna go see her?” Ray asked.

  I chewed my bottom lip a second, “I don’t know,” I lied. Yeah. I was going to go see her, and it didn’t have anything to do with a free cup of coffee. I’d probably thought about her every night since the night we’d met. Had even asked about her every time I’d ended up at her hospital.

  She was almost always on my mind. I wanted to know about her.

&nb
sp; “C’mon, man. Truck ain’t gonna wash itself.”

  I folded the note back up and put it in my wallet to keep it safe.

  Five

  Corrine Tate…

  The bell above the door chimed as I set two lattes on their owner’s table. I smiled at the ladies and turned, freezing in my tracks.

  “Hi,” I said lamely voice echoing hollowly.

  He smiled; the two days’ worth of dark stubble along his jaw incredibly sexy. My hands went self-consciously to my fashionable hipster scarf around my neck that hid my scars there. You could still see one that ran from my chin, along the underside of my throat and down the left side of my neck. There wasn’t anything I could do to hide that one except hide how much the lingering stares hurt me.

  “Hi,” he echoed back to me and took a step forward. He stopped, and I met him half way, both of us incredibly careful of one another as we crossed the expanse of worn hardwood between us. I put out my arms and he pulled me in. We hugged and tears gathered in my eyes.

  “Corrine?” Sadie, my boss, called from behind me and I jumped. I turned and wiped at my face.

  “Sorry! I’m sorry. Sadie, this is Dominic, he was the medic who saved my life.”

  Sadie’s tense posture eased and she smiled; a genuine smile and came around the counter, holding out her hand. Dominic took it and she shook it once.

  “Why don’t you take a break, Corrine? Go have a seat and I’ll bring you guys a couple of drinks. What’ll you have? It’s on the house.”

  “Oh, uh, sugar free vanilla latte?” Dominic said, and I committed it instantly to memory.

  “Your usual?” she asked me and I nodded.

  Dominic took me by the hand and led me over to the two vacant wing back chairs in front of the fire. I sank into one, knees trembling. I couldn’t believe this was real. I also couldn’t believe that I’d just given the other man the note last night.