| ----------------------- Seven years ago ----------------------- “Dad come on! Yes I know this, but you’re being unreasonable here. Can I please get in a word?” Scott Stapp was arguing, once again with his father, on his cell phone. Giving up out of anger, he hung up the phone. He turned up his radio and hit the gas. As he turned the volume dial he didn’t see the young girl walking across the road. He didn’t notice, that is, until she was practically through his windshield. “Oh my … god.” He sat frozen in his seat. He had no idea what to do; he stopped the car and got out. Walking slowly around to the front of the car he saw she was still breathing. “Honey, are you all right?” He asked, seriously worried that he’d hurt her. “No, you hit me with your car.” She answered, still lying on the hood. Carefully he helped her sit up. What do you ask? Are you okay? How about a doctor? Whoa, you’re cute! He smiled inside himself. “Do you need a doctor?” He asked nervously, his hands looking for some way to help her. “Well, gosh, you hit me with your car! What do you think?” She glared into his dark, sensual face. “What’s your name?” “Hannah O’Connell.” She replied. “Let me help you into my car.” Silently she let him scoop her into his arms, and then he pulled her against the warm strength of his chest. His arms slid under her legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and laid her head on his shoulder. His arms under her legs were like strong ropes of muscle. He smelled so good that she wanted to cry. She smelled like lavender and … roses, pink roses. He still hadn’t moved from the moment that he took her into his arms. “Weren’t you heading for your car?” She asked, looking him in the eyes and feeling her body melt. “Oh, yeah!” His brain clicked back over to functioning again. So he gingerly helped her into his burgundy Ford Stratus and headed off to the hospital. “Does anything hurt?” He glanced quickly over at her. “No,” She lied, “but I would suggest you stop watching me. You’ve all ready hit one girl today, do you really want to make it two?” “No.” He stared straight ahead. She watched as his sleek jaw quickly locked, and his silky lips pressed into a hard line. His knuckles turned white as he over zealously gripped the wheel. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you.” She whispered. He swallowed slowly as he took a left turn. His father never apologized, he was never wrong. “It’s all right, I’m used to--” He stopped. Her eyes slowly shifted over to him. ‘He was going to say he was used to it’ she thought, hoping the shock didn’t play on her face. “Will you be in trouble, with your parents?” Her eyes were still on him, studying his rough profile. “Yeah, I’ll be kicked out. My dad’s been threatening it for weeks now.” He asked, not sure why he was divulging this pointless information. “Take a right two blocks up.” She ordered. “What?” The hospital was in the other direction. “Do you want to be homeless boy?” “Not really, my name’s Scott.” “Fine Scott, if you want to avoid living out of a Frigidare box, turn right.” She ordered again. So he took a right like she said, and headed into an upper-class subdivision. “Please don’t call me ‘boy’, my dad does that. I hate it.” “Sorry. Take a right at the next stop, onto Sterling Street.” She replied, with a little more tenderness this time. “My house is on the left, hideous blue color, 3-door garage; poodle that acts like it’s on speed in the front yard. Can’t miss it.” “Okay.” He grinned. So they pulled into the driveway of a two-story, blue with brick ensemble. Scott found himself cringing, it was so very “7th Heaven” Christian style. “I know, I know, my house highly resembles the color of old vomit.” She grinned throwing her legs out of the car. “Thanks for the visual.” He pulled her back into his arms. “No problem.” She grinned proudly. “Is it just me, or does your house slightly remind others of the television show “7th Heaven”?” “Do not be deceived by outwardly appearances. We only look perfect.” “Um, how do we get in?” He asked at the door, still holding her. “Turn the knob, and kick the door in.” She cheerfully added her two cents. “Splendid. I’ve become a hit and run criminal, kidnapper, and now I’m breaking and entering.” “With your hostage, none the less.” She added. “You don’t have to sound so happy about it.” He gave up and kicked open the door. “Hola Papa! Where are you?” She shouted as they stepped inside. “I’ve entered the twilight zone.” He whispered, looking around. “Buenos tardes sweet pea, come upstairs.” A man shouted from upstairs. “Well daddy I would love to do that, but I’m slightly injured.” She shouted back. “Hey, I thought you said nothing hurt?” Scott asked. “I lied.” She looked back at him. “What have you done now?” A man in a black tank top came down into the foyer. He didn’t look old enough to be her father; he couldn’t have been more than 27. “I got hit by a car.” She still hung onto Scott. “Well at least it was by someone nice. Assuming you are the assailant of course.” The man gazed at Scott. “Yes sir.” Scott was completely lost. “Hola, I’m Kevin O’ Connell. I’m Hannah’s uncle … father … uncle--” “Both.” Hannah answered. “Great.” Scott was beginning to wish he’d hit the gas and never bothered to pick her up. So Kevin, who was a doctor by trade, picked up Hannah, and examined her. While in the process of the examination Hannah calmly explained that her parents had perished when she was five. Her uncle had rescued her from a Swedish boarding school, and had become, in all practicality, her father. “That makes things a lot clearer.” Scott sat near the couch where Kevin examined her right leg. “I thought I saw the word ‘in-breeders’ flash across your face.” She teased, “Ouch.” She jumped suddenly as Kevin pushed on a sore spot in her leg. “Looks like a broken leg, short-cakes.” Her uncle \ father diagnosed. “Yippee.” “How’s your car Scott?” Kevin turned to him. “Okay, she sort of slid onto the hood.” He grinned sheepishly. “Hey, what’ll we do about your dad?” Hannah asked. “Tell him the truth I suppose.” Scott shuddered at his father’s coming reaction. “Please, it’d be like throwing you to a pack of rabid wolves. Daddy, can’t you make something up?” Hannah turned her fraudulently pleading eyes towards Kevin. “I suppose, if Scott promises to pay me back.” Kevin caved without much begging. “Yes, anything.” Scott begged. “Then I’ll deal with your father.” Kevin smiled mischievously. So Kevin called Scott’s father and made up some story about studying, and Scott accidentally running his car into the mailbox, to account of the dings in the car. Also adding that he would be home soon. |