“Oh my God, I know you!” The nurse’s eyes sparkled. She was young and tanned, with short, sunbleached hair and a line of gold studs in one ear. “You’re the mom who saved her daughter, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes.” Rose felt her face warm.
“I have a baby at home, and I give you so much credit. How’d you do it?”
“It’s a long story, but I’m wondering if you could help me.” Rose leaned on the desk. “There’s another little girl who was caught in the fire. Her name’s Amanda Gigot, and I was wondering how she’s doing. Last I heard, she was in Intensive Care with a head injury. Can you find out how she is?”
“Hold on.” The nurse turned to a computer keyboard and pressed a few keys. “She’s still in Intensive Care.”
“Is there any way I could get some details on how she’s doing, or maybe you can?”
“We’re not supposed to divulge that information.”
“Please?” Rose put her hands together in mock prayer.
“Let me see.” The nurse shifted her gaze down the hallway, then picked up a desk phone and hit a few buttons, turning slightly away. “Suz, what up? Can you give me some info on the girl up there from the school? Name’s Gigot?”
Rose waited while the nurse nodded on the phone, listening for a few minutes, saying only “uh-huh” from time to time. When the nurse hung up, her expression was unreadable.
“Well?” Rose asked, breathless.
“I’m sorry, I can’t really say.”
“Please?” Rose begged, but the nurse shook her head.
“Sorry,” she answered, looking away.
Chapter Thirteen
It was morning, and Rose had watched the light in the hospital room change from darkness to dawn, as the outlines of the TV, wooden chairs, and night table acquired definition in increments. She had barely slept, worrying about Amanda, and said more than one prayer for her.
Well, are you happy now?
Outside the closed door, there were sounds of people talking, metal carts rattling, and an unidentified beeping, something mechanical. She caught a whiff of breakfast being served, an eggy smell rather than the proverbial coffee aroma, and either way, she wasn’t hungry.
We could lose the house.
Melly was still asleep, so Rose leaned over carefully, slid a hand into her jeans pocket, and pulled out her BlackBerry, checking the time. 8:26 A.M. She wished she could call Leo, but the cell phones supposedly interfered with the medical equipment. Last night, she’d texted him, and the red stars on her phone meant that she had new texts, emails, and calls. She pressed the button to see if he’d texted back.
Babe, Hope Amanda pulls through. Call me. Love you.
Rose thumbed the rollerball to check her email and skimmed the list of senders. They were parents of kids in Melly’s class, who must’ve gotten her email address from the class list. She opened the first email:
You have a helluva lot of nerve acting like you’re a hero when you were happy with letting those kids die. All you did was save your own hide and child
Rose swallowed, closed the email, and opened the next.
I will never understand how some people can be so blind to the needs of others. God will judge what you did
She closed the email, and didn’t want to read the next one, but the sender’s name caught her eye. Barbara Westerman. Danielle’s last name was Westerman, so Rose clicked Open:
I am outraged that you would care so little about my daughter’s safety. She was terrified and had to run out of the building all by herself. She could have died or been gravely injured, like Amanda! We don’t need selfish people like you in Reesburgh, and you should go back to
Rose closed the email, shaken. She clicked over to her phone calls. The log showed new calls from Unknown Numbers, and she didn’t call her voicemail to listen to the messages. She had a sense of what they’d say.
Melly was shifting in bed, her eyelids fluttering and her oxygen tube slipping, so Rose readjusted the oxygen, forwarded the last three emails to Leo, turned off the BlackBerry, and slid it back into her jeans pocket. She turned to Melly and brushed a stray hair from her forehead, just as the door to the room opened and a young orderly stuck his head inside.
“Anybody hungry?” he asked, with a smile.
“Sure, come on in, thanks.” Rose motioned to him, then returned her attention to Melly. It was the first chance she’d had to get a look at Melly in the daylight, and she eyed her with more care than usual, like Dr. Mom:
Her eyes, large and blue, still looked bloodshot, and her skin, which was on the fair side, seemed reddish, whether from the antiseptic used to clean it or from the smoke’s irritation. Her nose was small and turned slightly up, but showed redness around the nostrils, which was to be expected, and her lips, also thin like Rose’s, looked dry and parched. Bernardo had always said that Melly looked exactly like Rose, except in a dark blond Bernardo wig, and Dr. Mom decided she looked fine.
“Hi, Mom.” Melly raised her arms and hugged Rose around the neck. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mel. I hope you got some good sleep. You conked out.” Rose eased Melly back onto the bed. “Do you feel like waking up and eating a little breakfast? Or do you wanna rest?”
“I want to wake up.” Melly rubbed her eyes. “Can we go home?”
“Not yet, not until the doctor says.”
“Breakfast!” The orderly placed the tray on the night table, then blinked when he spotted her birthmark. He pointed at the scrambled eggs under their steamed-up cover of thick amber plastic. “Eat up. Help you grow up big and strong.”
“Thank you,” Melly said, raspy, getting into a sitting position as he left the room, closing the door behind him. She lifted the lid, releasing the smell of institutional eggs. “Is this all for me?”
“Yes.”
“My throat hurts. Do I have to go to school today?”
“No, it’s Saturday. You’ll feel better soon. Drink this.” Rose opened the water bottle, poured some in the flexible cup, and helped her sip some.
Melly swallowed, grimacing.
“It’ll be okay soon.”
“Do you have my Beedle the Bard book?”
“No. Sorry.” Rose had forgotten to ask Leo to get it in the car. There was another knock on the door, and she looked over. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Kristen Canton, the gifted teacher, popped her head inside the room. “Hello!” she called out, with a grin.
“Kristen!” Rose got up to greet her, calling her by her first name because she was only twenty-five, and preferred it. “How nice of you to come.”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t get here yesterday.” Kristen gave her a warm hug, then whispered in her ear, “I’ve been upstairs.”
“Oh.” Rose released Kristen, and close-up, she could see that the pretty young teacher was a wreck. A normally bouncy redhead with warm brown eyes, a small, straight nose, a sprinkling of adorable freckles and an omnipresent grin, Kristen wore a forced smile today, and her eyes looked puffy under fresh makeup.
“Ms. Canton!” Melly shouted.
“Hey, girlfriend!” Kristen crossed to the bed. Her hair had been gathered into a messy ponytail, and her usually hip shirt-and-jeans combo had been replaced by a gray hoodie, which she had on with black yoga pants and flats. “How you doin’?”
“Good!”
“Great. I’m so happy to see you’re all right. I’d hug you but I’m a little sick.”
“There was a fire in the school, Ms. Canton. My mom found me.”
“What a great mom!” Kristen winked at Rose, then turned back to Melly. “Guess what? I have a get-well present for you.”
“What is it?”
“Check it out.” Kristen slipped a hand into her shoulder bag, pulled out a longish box with flowery gift wrap, and presented it with a flourish. “Ta-da!”
“Yay!” Melly tore off the gift wrap, which covered a forest green box. She flipped open the lid, and insid
e was a green velveteen channel that held a magic wand, of fake wood. “Mom, look! It’s a Hermione wand!”
“Honey, what do you say?” Rose smiled, touched.
“Thank you, Ms. Canton!” Melly took out the wand and started waving it around, letting the box and wrap fall to the bed. “Alohomora! I opened a lock, just like Hermione.”
“Good for you.”
“Thank you so much. I have Harry’s wand but not Hermione’s. Now I can put out fires.”
Kristen grinned. “Like in Deathly Hallows.”
Rose didn’t remember. “There’s a fire in Deathly Hallows? Remind me, Mel.”
“Hermione puts out the fire in Mundungus’s eyebrows after Harry sets him on fire by accident. Water squirts out the top of the wand.” Melly waved the wand around, almost hitting her metal IV pole. “I don’t know the incantation, though.”
“Me, neither,” Kristen said, frowning.
Rose smiled. “You haven’t memorized every spell in Harry Potter?”
“I’ll put out the fire in the school!” Melly looked over, then her face fell. “Did the school burn down, Ms. Canton?”
“No,” Kristen answered, growing serious. “The school is fine. Only the section with the cafeteria was damaged, and we’re going to fix it, as good as new.”
“Was it from a bomb?”
“No, there were no bombs.”
Rose looked over. “Kristen, do they know what caused the explosion?”
“They think it was some kind of gas leak and faulty electrical wiring. Mrs. Nuru says they rushed construction to open on time, and the punch list didn’t get done.” Kristen checked her watch and turned back to Melly. “Oops, sorry, it’s late and I’ve got to go, sweetie. See you at school.” Kristen gave Melly another hug. “Good-bye.”
“Bye, Ms. Canton.” Melly released her, waving the wand, and Kristen shot Rose a meaningful look.
“Rose, will you walk me out?”
“Sure.” Rose turned to Melly. She knew it had to be about Amanda and she wanted to know what was going on upstairs. “Honey, I’ll be right back. Ms. Canton and I will be outside the door. Call if you need me.”
“Okay, Mom. Thanks for my wand, Ms. Canton!”
Chapter Fourteen
Rose led Kristen to a window well near Melly’s room, but away from the nurses’ station. Sunshine poured through the glass, bathing the young teacher in light as she leaned against the ledge and heaved a heavy sigh. Now that they were alone, she dropped her perky mask, and the naked sadness in her eyes made her look like a little girl.
“They don’t prepare you for this, in school,” Kristen said, exhaling. She shook her head, and her long, dark red ponytail slipped from side to side. “They don’t tell you that something horrible could happen to kids. I’ve been the gifted teacher for two years, and until now, my biggest worry was my math skills. I’m like, how can I help these kids with broken fractions, when I don’t understand them myself?”
Rose patted her back, sympathetic. “I know, this is tough.”
“I’m happy that Melly’s okay. It did me good to see her.”
“Thanks so much for the gift.”
“No worries. I love that kid. She’s awesome.”
“She loves you, too. She looks forward to school, because of you.” Rose couldn’t wait to ask. “Kristen, how is Amanda? I’m so worried about her. She was in a coma, last I heard.”
“She’s worse,” Kristen answered softly. Her pretty features contorted with pain, and she heaved a sudden sob, her hands moving to cover her face. “They just gave her last rites.”
Oh my God. Rose sagged next to her on the window ledge, feeling as if she’d been punched in the gut.
“The family is all up there,” Kristen said, between sobs. “The two brothers, their priest, the grandparents. They’re a mess, a total mess.”
Rose hung her head. Air conditioning blew onto her face, through a grate on top of the window well.
“I’m sorry, I just feel so lost, she’s just a little kid.” Kristen’s shoulders shuddered. “It’s so awful to see her that way.”
Rose ached for Eileen and the family, and her regrets rushed back at her. She should have saved Amanda when she had the chance. It wouldn’t have taken that long to get her out of the building. Both girls could be fine now, alive and well.
“I’m so sorry.” Kristen’s sobs began to subside, and she fumbled in her purse, found a soggy tissue, and dabbed underneath her eyes. “Things like this aren’t supposed to happen.”
“No, they’re not,” Rose said, but she knew better. Things like this happened all the time. Ambulances stocked teddy bears for a reason.
“I was so excited to get the job, running the gifted program.” Kristen sniffled. “Reesburgh is such a great district, and they were like, make it your own, go with it, develop your own curriculum and enrichment programs. It was the job everybody wanted. Now I’m sorry I got it.”
“Don’t say that.” Rose put an arm around the young teacher’s shoulder. “You do such a great job. Melly loves the gifted program and all the things you do, like when you bring in a speaker, that guy with the falcons or that poet. And Senator Martin and the Phillie Phanatic? The kids adore you, you relate so well to them.”
“That’s the problem, you know.” Kristen blew her nose noisily, causing her face to flush under her fair, freckled skin. “Mrs. Nuru says I’m too close to the students, that I lack professional distance. She says that I … I don’t know, oh, forget it.”
“What?”
“She thinks that I’m too close to Melly and that’s why she got so upset when Amanda teased her at lunch, or when we meet, in gifted. She says Melly’s too sensitive, and I shouldn’t encourage it.”
Rose stiffened. “That’s blaming the victim. What Amanda did was downright cruel, and you weren’t even there.”
“I agree, but not everybody does.” Kristen blew her nose, with finality. “They’re all talking about it. Everybody has an opinion, because of what happened.”
“What happened? You mean that I got Melly out, and not Amanda?”
“Forget it, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” Kristen rolled her eyes. “God, I’m such a motor mouth.”
“Kristen, no matter what you heard, I want you to know that I thought I got Amanda out of the building. I took her and Emily to the hallway door before I even went to get Melly, and I thought she’d keep going—”
“Wait, stop.” Kristen raised her hands. “I’m not accusing you of anything, and I know you. I know you wouldn’t just leave Amanda in a burning school. If you tried to get Amanda and the others out, then went back for Melly, no one can blame you. I don’t blame you. You couldn’t leave Melly.” Kristen blinked. “That’s crazy! You were in a terrible position. You did your best.”
Rose felt a warm rush of gratitude. “They think I chose Melly over Amanda, but I didn’t.”
“Don’t let them get to you. No one has the facts, and I heard Emily’s traumatized. Eileen’s losing Amanda, and it’s so horrible that she’s totally crazy. Everybody’s crazy! Her, Mrs. Nuru, Mr. Rodriguez, all of them. You don’t know the half of it. My mother would say, we’re ‘undone.’ I’m ‘undone,’ and so are you.” Kristen looked up, her tired eyes glistening. “Have you told Melly about Amanda and the others?”
“Not yet, no.” Rose didn’t want to fast-forward to that conversation. “I’d like to get her home first, and get her feet under her.”
“Good. I’ll be glad to come over when you tell her. Call me, whenever. You have my cell number. I think it’s on my email to you.”
“Thanks,” Rose said, grateful. “I’ll talk to Leo, to see what he thinks.”
“We’ll have grief counselors at school, and the guidance counselor. Mrs. Nuru’s been through this, and she says the counselors really help. She’s lost three students in her time. One to leukemia, one to bone cancer, and another died in a car crash with a drunk driver.”
Rose reeled. Leukemia. Cancer
. Car crash. Now, Amanda. It made a blotchy red birthmark seem like nothing. She felt tears rising, then willed them away. At least her child was alive. “How the hell do you outlive your child?” Rose asked, half to herself.
Mommy!
“Don’t ask me, I have both my parents, and my only kid is a cat.” Kristen looked down the hall, distracted, and Rose turned to see Mr. Rodriguez striding toward them. He’d been a teacher for thirty years before he became principal, and he was in his fifties, if less than fit. Six feet tall with a blocky build, he came off like everybody’s favorite uncle in a navy polo shirt that showed a paunch hanging over gray suit pants.
“Rose.” Mr. Rodriguez smiled when he reached her, but his brown eyes showed the strain. He ran a hand through short, dark hair. “I’m sorry about what happened, and I’m sorry it took me this long to come see you. How is Melly? I hear she’s on the mend.”
“Yes, thanks. We’re hoping she goes home tomorrow.”
“Wonderful.” Mr. Rodriguez’s brow relaxed, his relief genuine. “Where’s Leo?”
“Home with John, the baby.”
“Of course. Great guy. I’m so happy you were there for Melly. Your acts were positively heroic.”
Rose flushed. “I only wish I could have saved Amanda, too. I did take her and Emily to the hall leading to the playground.”
“I’m sure.” Mr. Rodriguez frowned deeply, his dark eyebrows joining like gathering nimbus clouds. “I was just upstairs. You should know that Amanda’s been given last rites.”
“Kristen told me. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s just tragic.” Mr. Rodriguez sighed. “Fortunately, Eileen’s got a lot of support, and her family will get her through whatever she has to face, whenever the time comes.”
“I can’t imagine losing a child.”
“Nor can I. My daughters are my life. I’ve had challenges in my career, but never like this. Eileen will have to go on, for her boys.” Mr. Rodriguez nodded, as if trying to cheer himself up. “You’ll find that there are real advantages to being a member of such a small community. We support each other in Reesburgh. Most of the people here have watched the Gigots grow up, and you’ll see how tight we are, when we reopen on Monday.”
Save Me Page 6
