The Girl Death Left Behind

by Lurlene McDaniel

  Suddenly a bolt of lightning split the sky and a clap of thunder shook the very air. Allison shrieked, and their mother yelled, “You kids come inside this minute.” The whole bunch of them scrambled as the wind swayed the tree branches overhead. Beth grabbed bowls of food and made it inside just as a torrent of rain swept across the wooden deck. Everyone grumbled or made jokes about barbecues attracting rain the way picnics did ants.

  Beth stared out at the pelting, drenching rain and sighed. She hoped it wasn’t a bad omen. What a way to start the summer.

  3

  “You know, Beth, I could let your father take Doug and Allison, and I could stay home with you.”

  Beth rested her elbows on the kitchen table, watching her mother fill the picnic cooler with bags of fresh fruit and plastic bowls filled with salads. “Mom, I’m fine. I just feel weak, that’s all.”

  “You’ve had a nasty flu bug and I’m not sure I should go off and leave you alone all day.”

  “But the picnic—”

  “Will happen again next year, just like it always does,” her mother finished.

  “I’ve got plenty to amuse me. I’ve got books to read, the CD player. You don’t have to stay with me, Mom. I can handle a day at home by myself.” Beth’s bout with flu had started two days before. She did feel better, but not up to being out at the lake all day. It would be the first time she’d missed the annual picnic.

  Her mother opened the refrigerator door. “There’s plenty for you to eat.”

  “Please don’t say the word eat.”

  As her father entered the kitchen, Beth and her mother exchanged glances. “Carol, where’s my Vols baseball hat?” he asked.

  Her mother straightened. “You’re not wearing that shirt, are you?”

  “What’s wrong with it? It’s clean.”

  The faded old shirt was her father’s favorite. A variety of years-old stains dotted the front. Once-orange letters reading TENNESSEE VOLUNTEERS, the name of the team at her father’s alma mater, had faded to a pale peach color.

  “It looks awful,” his wife said. “What will people think?”

  Beth’s parents had the same discussion every year. “Why don’t you wear the one we bought you for Father’s Day?” Beth suggested.

  “Yes,” her mother said. “It looks so much better. And the kids picked it out themselves.”

  “But this is my favorite.” He grinned. “And it’s lucky, too. Whenever I wear it, my team wins.”

  “Well, maybe it’s time to start a new tradition.”

  “Please, Dad.”

  “Oh, all right. But if we lose, I’ll know why!” He headed out of the kitchen.

  Allison chased Doug into the room, yelling, “Give it back, Doug!”

  “Make me!” Doug darted under the table, holding his sister’s soccer ball.

  “Mother!”

  “Stop it, you two. I’m not up to a whole day of your bickering.”

  “He’s such a little brat!” Allison scooted under the table and began to scuffle with her brother.

  Beth moved her legs, but not before they got hit by Allison’s flying fist. “Ouch!”

  “That’s it.” Her mother stamped her foot. “Both of you, out. Go to your rooms until we’re ready to leave.”

  “Aw, Mom,” Doug said. “We were just playing.”

  Allison clutched her recovered soccer ball to her chest. “Can I stay home with Beth?”

  Beth shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to baby-sit her kid sister. “I’m sick, remember? I can’t be watching Allison and resting too.”

  “You’re coming with us, Allie,” their mother said.

  Beth peered out the large bay window overlooking their backyard. Golden morning sunlight beat down on blooming hydrangea bushes, rows of geraniums, morning glories, and tangles of lacy ferns. The yard was their mother’s pride and joy. “At least the rain stopped.”

  “The weatherman says we should have a pretty nice day, but those sudden thunder-showers never fail to hit our picnic.” Carol Haxton turned to Beth. “You know we’ll be late getting in.”

  “I know.” The fireworks didn’t go off until after nine.

  “Are we ready?” Beth’s father called from the foyer.

  “Come get the cooler.”

  Beth, still in her sleep shirt, shuffled out to the driveway, where the minivan was loaded and ready to go. Her mother glanced up. Overhead, banks of dark clouds had replaced bright blue sky.

  “Honey, did you pack the rain gear?” She asked. “I don’t trust the weatherman.”

  Her father placed one hand on Doug’s shoulder to stop the boy in midrun and the other on his wife’s arm. “It’ll blow over. What’s a picnic without rain?”

  “We’ll get soaked.”

  “There’s a covered pavilion.”

  “That we’ll have to share with a hundred other people.”

  “Aren’t women sissies?” he said to his son.

  “Yup, sissies,” Doug echoed.

  Carol gave up the argument and turned to Beth. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  “Fine.”

  “Now, remember the rules. Doors locked. Don’t tie up the phone. Call Faye next door if you have any problems.” Teddy’s mother, Faye Carpenter, hadn’t gone off to Atlanta.

  Beth started feeling queasy again. She would be glad when everyone had left so that she could lie down. She smiled gamely. Her parents hugged her goodbye. “Hit a home run for me,” she told her father.

  “I’ll give it the best I can without my lucky shirt.”

  Beth watched them pile into the van. Through the windows, she saw Allison burying her face in a book and Doug playing one-handed catch with a baseball. Beth waved as they pulled out of the driveway. Her father waved, and her mother blew her a kiss. At the end of the street, her father gave a farewell honk with the horn. Beth returned to the house, locked the door, and leaned heavily against it.

  After the morning chaos, the house seemed eerily quiet. Beth dragged up the stairs. She headed down the hall toward her room, which until only recently she’d shared with Allison. Her mother had turned her sewing room into a bedroom for Allison so that Beth could have her own space. This made Beth happy. She’d been tired of sharing a room with her kid sister.

  Beth passed her parents’ room. The bed was neatly made, but her father’s crumpled favorite shirt lay wadded on the floor. Allison’s yellow, white, and lavender room looked tidy, but Doug’s was a disaster. Toys spilled over the carpet, and his bed looked as if he’d been jumping on it. In her own bedroom, she snuggled beneath the covers. In minutes her eyelids drooped.

  She was startled awake, her heart hammering, when the boom of thunder shook the house. “Great,” she muttered. Rain pelted her window and thudded on the roof. She burrowed deeper beneath the sheets and pictured the picnic area out by the lake. People would be scampering for cover and her mother would be grousing because they had brought no rain gear. Beth was glad she had stayed home.

  She slept again, and when she awoke, the rainstorm had passed and the afternoon was fading into evening. She felt better and, suddenly, hungry. Sleepily she headed downstairs to the kitchen, where she searched the refrigerator for something that would taste good but not revolt in her stomach.

  She decided on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and was spreading grape jam on bread when the unexpected sound of the doorbell made her jump straight off the floor. She scampered to the front door and peeked through the filmy curtain covering the long foyer window. She saw two uniformed policemen and her father’s secretary standing on the front porch. Her mouth went dry. “Is something wrong?” she called through the door.

  “Beth, remember me, Jill Bledsoe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Honey, it’s all right to open the door. We … we need to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “There’s been an accident, Beth,” Jill said in a halting, frightened voice. “Your family’s hurt. We’re her
e to drive you to the hospital where they’ve been taken. Please hurry.”

  4

  Beth fumbled with the lock, jerked open the door, and let her father’s secretary and the two policemen into the foyer.

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” Jill said.

  “What kind of accident? A car accident? Is it bad?” Fear squeezed Beth’s heart.

  “Yes, a car accident. I kept looking for them to show up at the picnic site and when they didn’t, I got worried. I mean, we had a terrible storm come up.”

  “I heard the thunder.” Beth felt sick to her stomach, but not because of the flu.

  “Anyway, my husband and I decided to go see if they’d had car trouble or something and about five miles from the lake, on that old winding road, I saw a van, your family’s, down in a ditch and—”

  One of the officers interrupted Jill. “They’ve been taken to Memorial Hospital.”

  “Are they okay? Will you take me to them now?”

  “That’s why we’re here,” Jill said.

  Beth ran upstairs and dressed quickly. Her hands shook, and she was so cold that her teeth chattered. Her family had to be all right. They had to be!

  She was hurrying to the police car when Teddy’s mother came running over from next door. “What’s going on?”

  The officer spoke quietly to Faye Carpenter. She came over and put her arms around Beth. “I’m going to follow you to the hospital in my car,” she said. “I won’t let you go through this alone.”

  When the police car arrived at the emergency room, Beth leaped out as soon as the door was opened. People sat in chairs against the walls in the waiting area. She searched the faces but saw no one she knew. By now, Faye and Jill had caught up to her. Beth whirled and looked at Jill. “Where are they? Where’s my family?”

  “I don’t know. Let me see what I can find out.”

  Jill crossed to the information desk while Faye stayed with Beth. Jill and the woman behind the desk talked; then the woman left. By now the police officers had also joined Beth.

  “The receptionist said she has to get the doctor who’s handling the case. She said we should stay here and wait,” Jill said when she returned to the group.

  Minutes later the receptionist came out with a nurse, who introduced herself and said, “Dr. Higdon is the doctor handling your family’s case. He’ll be out to talk to you as soon as he can get away.”

  “But I want to see my parents. Where are they? Are they okay?”

  The nurse asked, “Dear, is there someone I can call to come be with you?”

  Faye said, “I’m with her.”

  “Are you a family member?”

  “Her neighbor. But her mother and I are friends.”

  “I’d like to have a relative here,” the nurse said. “Do you have grandparents? Anyone we can call?”

  Beth shook her head. Her grandparents were dead. “My aunt Camille lives in Tampa.”

  “Do you know her phone number?”

  “I—I don’t remember.” Beth could hardly remember her own name at the moment.

  “Just tell me what you can and I’ll track her down via the phone company,” the receptionist said.

  Beth told her, and minutes later she called Beth over to her desk. “I have your aunt on the phone.” She handed Beth the receiver.

  “Aunt Camille?”

  “Oh, honey! The nurse told me what happened. This is terrible. Are you all right?”

  Her aunt’s voice, so like Beth’s mother’s, made a huge lump swell in Beth’s throat. “They won’t let me see Mom or Dad,” she managed to say.

  “I’ll come as soon as I can. Give me a few minutes to call the airport and see what I can arrange.”

  Beth’s knees went weak with relief. Thirty minutes later her aunt had arranged a flight from Tampa to Chattanooga, and Jill Bledsoe had volunteered to meet her at the airport. Then there really was nothing to do but wait. Beth took a seat as close to the emergency room doors as possible, hoping she might catch a glimpse of her parents or Allie or Doug whenever the triage doors swung open. But she could see nothing, no one.

  Beth’s eyelids grew heavy as time passed. She fought sleep. She drank colas and forced half a sandwich down to please Faye. Sometime after midnight, the outside doors opened and her aunt Camille rushed into the room. Beth threw herself into her aunt’s arms.

  “Oh, Beth, honey, I got here as soon as I could.”

  Beth started crying uncontrollably and clung to her aunt. “They won’t tell me anything, Aunt Camille. They won’t let me see them. Please make them. Please!”

  “Come with me.” Camille walked with Beth to the receptionist desk. The staff had changed shifts, and Beth recognized no one, but they seemed to know all about her. “I want to know what’s going on,” her aunt said.

  “Just a minute. I’ll page Dr. Higdon.”

  Minutes later a tall man with glasses and a mop of curly black hair came out to meet them. He looked haggard. “I’m Dr. Higdon,” he said.

  “Camille Moffat. This is my niece, Beth Haxton. I’m her mother’s sister. Please tell us what’s going on.”

  “We have a more private room down the hall. Follow me.”

  Beth held her aunt’s hand, and Faye went with them. The walk down the hall seemed endless. Once they were inside the small cubicle, Dr. Higdon said, “Please sit down.”

  “I don’t want to sit,” Beth said. She was angry at the doctor who’d kept her waiting so long.

  “How are my sister and brother-in-law?” her aunt asked. “And their two children. Beth said they were in the accident too.”

  “Yes,” the doctor said. “An ambulance brought in all four of them.”

  “I—I stayed home,” Beth explained, although no one had asked her why she hadn’t been in the van. “I had the flu.”

  “According to the police,” the doctor said, “the van swerved from the road and careened down a hill, rolled over, and smashed into a tree. The impact was severe. The Jaws of Life had to be used to open the car and extract the passengers.”

  Beth shuddered. “B-But they’re all right, aren’t they? You fixed them up, didn’t you?”

  Dr. Higdon looked her in the eye. “No, Beth. They arrived at our emergency room DOA.” His voice was soft, terribly soft.

  “DOA?” Her voice quivered.

  “Dead on arrival. I’m very sorry, but there was absolutely nothing we could do for them. Nothing at all. But I didn’t feel you should be told this without a relative present.”

  5

  Sunlight jabbed at Beth’s closed eyelids. She turned her head, but the relentless rays of the sun wouldn’t go away. Suddenly she felt her chest tighten and her breathing slow, then stop altogether. She felt as if she were drowning and began to flail her arms and legs like a swimmer kicking toward the surface. She crashed the surface and sat bolt upright, gasping for air, her eyes wide. She was in her bedroom. Pink and white flowers flecked the wallpaper. Pink carpet covered the floor. This was her room. Her room. She was safe. No … something was wrong.

  The agony of the night before returned. She had been told that her whole family was dead. Gone. Wiped out with a long skid, the squeal of tires, the impact of metal hitting a tree. Her last image of them haunted her: Allison bent over a book. Doug tossing his baseball. Her dad waving, her mother blowing a kiss. The tap on the horn at the end of the street. Now there was only silence in the big house. No sound of running water in the bathroom. No smell of brewing coffee. No muffled TV cartoons from the den. Silence, so ominous. She wanted to scream.

  Dr. Higdon had given her and Aunt Camille sedatives. They had returned to Beth’s house, where she had collapsed into a drugged, exhausted sleep. Beth threw back the covers and scrambled to her feet. She staggered, grabbed hold of the metal headboard of the bed, and fought to regain control of her ragged breath and thudding heart.

  A knock on the door almost made her scream, “Go away!” Instead she rasped, “Come in.”

  Aunt Cami
lle eased open the door. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and her eyes looked puffy and red. “Jack and Terri are flying in today,” she said.

  I don’t care, Beth thought. Jack and Terri were Camille’s family. Her family. Beth didn’t have a family anymore. “All right.”

  “Honey, we have to talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk.”

  “Beth … we must. There are things that have to be decided.”

  “What things?”

  Her aunt took a tissue from her jeans pocket. “We’ve got to plan a funeral.” She sobbed into the tissue, but Beth felt strangely removed, as if she were watching a movie or a TV show. She didn’t feel a part of the scene. Perhaps it would fade. Or go to snow like the end of a videotaped movie.

  When her aunt regained her composure, Beth simply said, “I don’t want to.”

  “We must. The story’s in the paper, and people from your dad’s company have been calling all morning. They want to send flowers. They want to pay their respects.”

  The idea seemed barbaric to Beth. She didn’t want to think about a funeral. She didn’t want to put her parents, her brother, and her sister into dark holes in the ground. She started to tremble. Her aunt reached for her. “We’ll get through this, honey. We will.”

  Beth went into her aunt’s arms, but the embrace felt odd to her, strangely out of kilter. She wasn’t in her mother’s arms. She pressed her lips together to stop the sobs struggling to get out. She lost the battle.

  Teddy came over in the afternoon to stay with Beth while Faye took Camille to the airport to pick up Jack and Terri. Teddy sat on the edge of the sofa, his hands clamped tightly between his knobby knees. “I can’t believe such a bad thing happened,” he said. “It’s not fair. It’s not right.”

  Beth felt hollow, as if some giant hand had reached down and scooped out her insides, leaving only a shell. On the outside she was Beth Haxton. On the inside there was nothing. “I keep thinking Doug and Allison will come through the door arguing with each other,” she said. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and this will have been a bad dream.”