Sweet Noel

by Jeanette Lewis

  “Jordan!” Gina’s voice was sharp. “I need to focus right now. Keep Arthur in the car and don’t get out.”

  “Ma’am, is everything okay?” A woman emerged from a house, her phone in her hand. “What happened?”

  “We had an accident,” Gina said in a rush.

  The man groaned again, and from the corner of her eye, she saw that both of her boys had climbed out of the car and were now staring with open mouths.

  “Boys, I said get back in the car,” she ordered.

  “Ma’am, you need to stay on the line with me until the paramedics arrive,” the dispatcher said firmly. “Please pay attention.”

  “I’m trying,” Gina said frantically. “I have to take care of my boys.” Tears stung her eyes. If only Lee were here. He would take charge and get things under control.

  “I’ll stay here with him while you go take care of your kids,” the neighbor woman offered.

  “Thank you,” Gina said gratefully. In the distance, she heard sirens growing louder. “They’re here now,” she told the dispatcher.

  “Okay, please do as they say and don’t leave until you’re told you can go,” the dispatcher replied. Without another word, the line went dead.

  Gina handed her phone to Jordan. “Get back in the car and call Uncle Ben. Don’t freak him out, but tell him what happened.”

  Jordan nodded wordlessly and took the phone just as the first fire truck rounded the corner, followed closely by the police. The red and blue lights flashed off the houses, and more curious neighbors gathered on the street, alerted to the disturbance.

  The paramedics were quick and efficient. Within minutes, they had the man immobilized on a backboard. Gina stood back and wrapped her arms around her ribs while she watched. Fear spun like a spider web in her stomach, and a feeling of panic churned just below the surface, like she’d been thrown into deep water and couldn’t swim. Too late, she realized she should have been taking pictures. But Jordan had her phone, and the paramedics had already disturbed the scene.

  “The Scene.” Like it was some kind of CSI episode and she’d be found guilty based on forensic evidence. There was no guesswork required here. She’d obviously hit the guy. Except … she was not a drinker, but the smell of alcohol on the man’s breath had been unmistakable.

  “Are you the driver, ma’am?” A young police officer approached with a clipboard.

  “Yes. But he’s drunk,” Gina said.

  “Just tell me your side of the story,” the officer said. She wore a navy-blue uniform like Ben’s, and her blond hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail.

  “But if he’s drunk, it isn’t my fault, right?” Gina pressed. “He stepped in front of me.” She looked again at the man strapped to the backboard. He lay motionless as the paramedics lifted him onto a gurney.

  The woman nodded. “Okay, ma’am, just tell me in your own words.”

  “I …” Gina closed her eyes, trying to think. The boys had said something. “I picked up my boys from their grandparents’ house—they were there for Thanksgiving dinner. We were going home and he appeared in front of us.”

  “‘He’ meaning the victim?”

  Gina winced at the word. Victim. “I guess so.”

  “Can you show me exactly where he came from?”

  Gina pointed between two cars lining the street. “That white one and the green one. Or maybe the green one and the gray one in front.” Suddenly it all seemed so muddled. Why hadn’t she paid more attention? She should have been paying attention.

  Why couldn’t this have happened during one of those times when her brain was functioning on maximum capacity and she felt fully in control of herself and her vehicle? Why hadn’t she noticed all the little things, checked for bikers, motorcycles, stray pets, jaywalkers, and anything else that might cause an accident? Why had she been zoning out?

  Because Lee had a girlfriend, that was why. One he cared enough about to bring to family Thanksgiving and introduce to their sons. Was this a sign of something serious, or was she being paranoid?

  “Ma’am?” The blond officer brought her back. “What time would you estimate the collision happened?”

  Gina shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. It’s been twenty, maybe thirty minutes ago? I called as soon as I could.” She darted a glance toward the ambulance where the paramedics were sliding the man into the back. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” the officer said kindly. “I’m going to take some pictures, and then I’ll have you sign this statement. All right?”

  “Sure.” Gina nodded.

  She watched the ambulance pull away, then went back to the car and poked her head inside. Arthur and Jordan sat huddled together, their faces drawn with fear.

  “Are you in trouble, Mom?” Arthur asked. “Will they take you to jail?”

  “Of course not. You don’t go to jail for an accident.” Gina tried to put more optimism in her voice than she felt. “I need my phone, though. I’m going to take some pictures of my own.”

  Jordan passed the phone to Gina, and she spent the next ten minutes shadowing the officer, taking pictures of everything she could think of: the cars parked along the road, her car where it had come to a stop, and the approximate location where the man had fallen.

  “He was drunk,” she told the police officer again. “His breath smells like strong alcohol, and he was stumbling.”

  The woman scrawled it on her report and held out the clipboard for Gina to sign. “I’m sure the investigator will contact you for more details,” she said. “And probably the victim’s attorney at some point.”

  “Attorney?” The word dropped on Gina like a sandbag. “He’s going to sue me?”

  The officer lifted one shoulder. “I hate to be a bearer of bad news, but I’d expect a lawsuit if I were you.”

  “But he was drunk,” Gina protested. A year had passed since the divorce, and she was just now starting to get back on her feet—if “back on your feet” included living with your parents and mooching off their generosity until you could save up enough for a down payment on an apartment. And moving costs. And school registration. And …

  The officer held out a pink paper. “Here’s your copy of the report. We’ll be in touch.”

  They left, and Gina sank into her driver’s seat. It had all seemed to happen so fast, but a quick glance at the clock told her it’d been almost three hours since she’d arrived in Cinnamon Hills.

  “Mom?” Arthur said. “I’m scared.”

  Gina cleared her throat. “It’s going to be okay,” she said firmly. “It was an accident. It happens to everyone.”

  “But will the man be okay?” Jordan asked.

  “I’m sure his leg hurts. But the doctors will fix it.”

  There was a moment of silence while her sons digested the news. Then Arthur sighed. “Can we go home now? I told Grandpa I’d play checkers with him,” he asked, his attention already diverted to the ongoing checker rivalry between the boys and Gina’s dad.

  Gina looked around the neighborhood. A few stragglers still stood watching, but most of the neighbors had disappeared back inside their homes. The woman who had helped her with the man was gone, and no one else had approached to check that she was okay.

  She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. They were close to where Lee probably sat, enjoying a second piece of caramel apple pie with his girlfriend. They could go back. But the thought of ringing the bell and telling Lee’s family that she’d just run down a pedestrian was more than she could handle.

  A set of headlights came around the corner, and Gina gave a sigh of relief when she recognized Ben’s car. She jumped out of her Honda and hurried toward him as he parked near the curb. “Ben!” She threw herself into his arms.

  Her little brother was only little in years. He stood several inches taller and had a thick, powerful body of a police officer. His brown hair was clipped short, and his dimple flashed when he gave her a sympathe
tic smile. “You sure know how to end Thanksgiving Day with drama. Are you and the boys okay?”

  “I think so. None of us got hurt. But …” The tears were back, and she swiped them away. “It stinks. I can’t believe it happened, and now the guy will probably sue me, and we both know I can’t afford that. And Lee has a girlfriend. He brought her to dinner with the boys.” Her words came out in a rush.

  Ben lifted one eyebrow. “Let’s take one thing at a time, sis.”

  The passenger door of Ben’s car opened, and Eva climbed out, folding her green cardigan around her narrow ribs to ward off the deepening chill. She and Ben had married several months ago and had recently bought a house in Indigo Bay. Since their marriage, Eva had become the sister Gina had never known, and her presence brought immediate comfort. She stepped forward and enfolded Gina in a hug. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry,” she said in a low, soothing tone.

  “We’ll get it sorted out,” Ben promised.

  “The police officer who took the report told me to expect a lawsuit,” Gina said, rising panic in her chest. “I can’t afford a lawyer. And how is this my fault if the guy was drunk?”

  “Wait, he was drunk?” Ben frowned.

  Gina nodded. “I could smell it.”

  “Did you tell the police?” Ben asked.

  “Yes, but they acted like it was a secondary thing. Like even though he came out of nowhere, it was still my fault.” She pointed toward the row of parked cars. “He came from between the cars. There was nothing I could do.”

  “They’ll do a toxicology test on him at the hospital,” Ben said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s standard procedure.” But there was a crease between his eyebrows, one that said he was worried.

  “Okay, but what if they don’t?” Gina pressed. “It’s my only defense. You know how bad auto-pedestrian accidents look for the auto.”

  Ben threw a look toward Gina’s yellow CRV. “You don’t have a dashcam, do you?”

  Gina shook her head. “As if.” She grabbed her brother’s arm. “Ben, please. I can’t just go home and wait around for some insurance guy to call me. Plus, I know the guy was drunk. What if they don’t test him, so no one knows?”

  “I guess we could check out the ERs in the area, find out where they took him.” Ben threw a glance toward Eva. “Could you take the kids home, love? We won’t be long.”

  Eva nodded, and Gina breathed a sigh of relief. Eva could take the kids back to Indigo Bay while she and Ben searched for the guy she’d hit.

  “Did you hear what hospital they were taking him to?” Ben asked.

  Gina shook her head. “They didn’t let me get close.”

  “I’d guess Memorial in Aiken,” Ben said. “It’s got the nearest trauma center.”

  “Okay, let’s go.” She jerked her head toward his car. “You drive. And … do you have your police ID? It might come in handy.”

  Ben grinned. “Never without it.”

  Gina handed her keys to Eva and followed Ben to his car, hope simmering in her heart. With Ben’s help, they could get this sorted out tonight and she could put it behind her.

  3

  The hospital PA system was really starting to bug Noel. His ears rang with the static and high-pitched squeal as someone made announcements over the crackly speakers. How anyone could understand it was beyond him. With as much money as this hospital probably made, they could have at least invested in a decent PA system.

  He looked around the room. Nothing like getting hit by a car to kill your buzz. The Jack Daniels had worn off long ago, while he’d been lying on the pavement. He didn’t remember much about the accident, except that one minute he’d been upright and then the next … not so much. Oh, and there’d been a woman there. She was pretty, but very uptight, if his hazy brain remembered her correctly. But then, he’d probably be uptight too if he’d run someone down in the road.

  He’d been poked and prodded, x-rayed and scanned. They’d cut his clothes off, and the thin hospital gown offered scant privacy and protection from the AC blasting from the ceiling.

  “Mr. Hamilton?” A nurse pulled back the privacy curtain near the door. They’d gotten his information from his wallet; he hadn’t been in a position to give it to them. “How are you doing?”

  He lifted the hand not skewered by the IV. “I’ve been better.”

  A small smile flitted across her face. She was pretty too, though not as pretty as the lady who had run into him. That lady had given him her name. What was it? Trina? No … Gina. And she’d had long dark hair and chocolate-brown eyes were huge in her small face. Like some kind of fairy-tale anime character.

  But the nurse wasn’t bad. Her curly red hair was pulled into a clip at the back of her head, and she moved with quick efficiency, her fingers tapping over the keyboard.

  She swiped her badge on the computer reader and came toward the bed; Noel saw that her name tag said “Piper.” “The doctor will be in to see you shortly.”

  Noel rubbed the bridge of his nose. “How long have I been here?”

  Piper looked at her watch, one of those fancy Apple kinds with a sparkly pink band. “The paramedics brought you in about an hour ago,” she said. She checked the IV line running into his arm. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Can you get me out of here?” he asked, only partially joking.

  Piper gave him the tolerant smile of someone who’d heard that joke many times before. “Sorry, you have to wait for the doctor. And I’m told there are police officers on their way.”

  Noel groaned. No matter what, it looked like he had a long night ahead. “What’s in the bag, anyway?” He jerked his head toward the medicine drip hanging on the metal pole.

  “Morphine for the pain, and saline to bring your blood alcohol levels down,” Piper said. Her face stayed professionally neutral, and Noel wondered how many drunks she had to deal with daily.

  “So do you get more or less on Thanksgiving?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Drunks. And druggies. Do we come out in greater numbers around the holidays?”

  “It’s not my position to say,” Piper replied. “Sure I can’t bring you anything?”

  “Can you turn down the AC?” The AC in this room was definitely going above and beyond the call of duty, especially for November.

  “I’m sorry,” Piper said. “It’s a floor-wide system, and they do keep it cool in here. But I’ll bring you a blanket.” She disappeared through the doorway.

  Noel pulled the flimsy sheet aside to look at his legs. There were some fresh bruises up and down his shins, but his right knee was the biggest cause for concern. It was wrapped in gauze bandages and stabilized with a big foam cube that’d been cut down the middle to make room for his leg. He tried to bend it and gasped at the sudden pain. Even with the morphine, it hurt worse than anything he could remember. Even worse than when he’d crashed on his skateboard in high school and broken his wrist.

  Noel closed his eyes. He’d been awake for too long, exhausted, drunk, and now what? Stuck in a hospital in an unfamiliar city with no one to call. He didn’t even know where his phone was. Probably still lying in the street.

  “Hello?”

  Noel’s eyes flew open and landed on the young woman peering around the corner of the curtain. Not Piper—someone different, but somehow familiar. He knew this face. The long hair, the brown eyes. She was clearly nervous, and she didn’t walk into the room so much as she crept, keeping to the wall like she hoped he wouldn’t see her.

  It came back in a rush. She’d been staring down at him on the street, promising to call the paramedics. Gina.

  She was small, but not frail. It was hard to estimate with the cocktail of drugs and pain running through him, but he guessed she was slightly over five feet, almost a full foot shorter than him. She wore her long brown hair down, and had minimal makeup.

  She was beautiful, with delicate features and a full mouth. Her skin was pale, but it had the ol
ive undertones of someone who tanned easily. As she got closer, he could see that she wasn’t as young as he’d first thought. Worry lines were etched around her eyes and mouth—he’d missed those earlier. But then, he’d missed a lot of things earlier, including her headlights coming down the street.

  His knee throbbed, and he scowled. “What do you want?”

  “I’m Gina,” she reminded him. “I came to see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m swell,” Noel grated. “Always wanted to spend Thanksgiving weekend in a hospital, so thank you very much.”

  “It’s not like I hit you on purpose. You jumped out in front of me.”

  “That’s not how I remember it,” Noel said. In truth, he didn’t remember anything except the sickening crunch when the car hit his leg. But he wasn’t about to admit it.

  Her expression hardened. “Fine. Excuse me for wanting to make sure you were okay.”

  “How did you find me?” he asked.

  “I guessed,” she admitted. “This is the most likely place.”

  “Where’s ‘this,’ anyway?”

  “Memorial Hospital in Aiken,” she said. “It’s the closest to Cinnamon Hills.”

  “What’s Cinnamon Hills?”

  “The town where I hi—where the accident happened. It’s about twenty minutes away. I take it you’re not a local, then?”

  Noel shook his head. “Just passing through.”

  “Visiting for Thanksgiving?”

  Memories churned in his gut—memories far more painful than his knee. “Passing through,” he said again. His voice was rough, tinged with a warning.

  Gina hesitated, then took another step toward him. She wrapped her arms around her ribs and looked up at the ceiling. “You look cold. I could turn the AC down?”

  “I suggested that,” he said wryly. “I guess it doesn’t work that way. The nurse is bringing another blanket.”

  There was a pause as Gina’s eyes took in the lumpy shape of the foam brick encasing his knee beneath the sheet. “Do you know what’s wrong yet?” she asked.

  Noel shook his head. “Doctor hasn’t been in. But they did some x-rays. And the police want a statement.”