If Not for You

by Debbie Macomber

“It isn’t you, I promise,” Nichole insisted.

  Beth wasn’t convinced. “Not everyone is going to feel attracted to me; I accept that, and clearly Sam isn’t interested.”

  It looked as if Nichole wanted to argue, but then she apparently changed her mind. “I feel terrible.”

  “Don’t, please. We’ll muddle through the rest of the evening and then put it behind us. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Nichole echoed. “You’re a good sport.”

  “Thanks. Now let’s have dinner so Sam and I can both escape with our egos and dignity intact.”

  Nichole grinned and then gave her an impulsive hug. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’m vowing to never try this matchmaking business again.”

  Beth smiled, disappointed for her friend and at the same time relieved.

  While Nichole took dinner out of the oven, Beth mixed the salad and dished it up. Together they carried the salad plates into the dining room. Rocco and Sam had moved to the table and Rocco had poured the wine.

  Thankfully, dinner was a little less awkward. Beth complimented Nichole, although she barely tasted the food. She sat directly across from Sam and wished she knew how best to reassure him that she held no aspirations toward furthering the relationship.

  He seemed a bit more at ease, too. The conversation wasn’t as stilted, but it wasn’t lively, either. Sam mentioned the Seahawks and seemed surprised that she knew a fair bit about professional football. It was comforting to have scored points with him.

  About halfway through dinner, Owen glanced from one to the other and said, “You should tell Sam the story you told me about Mozart,” he suggested.

  Beth chanced a look at Sam. “Would you like to know something about Mozart?” she asked.

  “Of course he would,” Rocco answered for him.

  Sam shot his friend a look that clearly said he could answer for himself. “Sure, why not,” he said.

  “I’ll tell it,” Owen said, excitedly. “Mozart started playing the piano at age three and was composing at age four.”

  “That’s cool,” Sam said, clearly unimpressed. “I wonder if Carrie Underwood started singing around that age.”

  Owen frowned. “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “Nope.”

  The remainder of dinner passed quickly, with Nichole and Rocco carrying most of the conversation. Every now and again Sam would glance at Beth and they’d share a look. She hoped he understood she was as much a casualty as he was. He didn’t give any indication what he felt, and that was fine.

  As soon as the dinner dishes had been cleared, Nichole said, “I made applesauce cake for dessert.”

  “I swear I couldn’t eat another bite,” Beth said, planting her hands on her stomach as if she was about to explode.

  Sam scooted back his chair and pantomimed her action. “Me, neither.”

  “In fact, I should probably be heading home,” Beth added.

  “I should, too.”

  Both Beth and Sam got to their feet as if they couldn’t leave fast enough.

  “Are you sure?” Owen asked Sam. “I thought applesauce cake was your favorite.”

  “He’s sure,” Rocco said. “I’ll save some for you later,” he assured his friend.

  “Thank you for the lovely meal,” Beth said, reaching for her purse on her way to the door.

  “Yes, thank you,” Sam added.

  They reached the front door and in a comedy of errors both tried to go through it at the same time. Beth looked up at Sam and smiled; he chuckled and held the door open for her. Neither one of them was willing to stay a minute longer than necessary.

  Beth climbed into her car and drove away first, with Sam right behind her in his monster truck.

  They pulled up to the intersection at the same time. Beth was in the turn lane and Sam was right next to her.

  She looked over at him, and after a moment he glanced at her. If she’d had the nerve she would have mouthed the word sorry, knowing he’d been as miserable as she’d been.

  The light turned green and Beth drove into the intersection.

  And that was when she saw the vehicle come barreling toward her and knew there was no way to avoid a collision.

  No way to escape.

  CHAPTER 4

  Sam

  Sam watched in horror as the car raced directly toward Beth’s vehicle. Instinctively, he shouted out a warning, as if that would do any good, but it was too late.

  The sound of the impact was explosive, sending Beth’s vehicle spinning like a toy top. Several cars screeched to a stop, looking to avoid any further collisions. Sam was the first one out of his vehicle, racing toward Beth’s car, his heart pounding so hard it felt as if it was about to explode inside his chest. Thankfully, he wasn’t a man given to panic. Adrenaline shot through him and he saw that his hands were shaking, not knowing what he would find.

  As he ran past, he noticed that the other car, the one that hit Beth’s, looked to be in much better shape. The front end was smashed and steam rose from the dented hood. The young girl inside was moaning, but he ignored her, eager to do what he could to help Beth, who had taken the brunt of the impact.

  He was the first one to reach her. The driver’s-side window had shattered, and the air bag had discharged. Glass had spilled on the inside, and he saw that she had several lacerations on her face and hands.

  “Beth,” he said gently, wanting to reassure her, “it’s Sam. Are you badly hurt?”

  Slowly she opened her eyes and blinked at him, her eyes locking with his as she groaned. He could see she was going into shock and grabbed his cell and immediately dialed 911.

  “What’s your emergency?” the woman on the other end of the line requested.

  “Multiple car accident, corner of Sandy Boulevard and Sixteenth Street,” he shouted into his phone. “Looks like one woman is badly hurt, minor injuries to the other.”

  A moment passed. “Dispatch has been notified.”

  “Hurry,” he pleaded. “I’m pretty sure the woman is going into shock.”

  “Dispatch has been notified.” Before he could cut the connection, the 911 operator asked for his name and number, which Sam quickly supplied. As soon as he was off the phone, he leaned toward Beth. “Help is on the way,” he assured her. “You’re going to be okay.”

  All she seemed to be able to manage was another moan.

  He heard someone screaming hysterically behind him and glanced over his shoulder to see the other driver had climbed out of her vehicle. “My father is going to kill me.”

  “If he doesn’t, I will,” Sam shouted back at her, furious with the teenager.

  “My brakes failed,” she insisted.

  Sam knew it was a lie. Just before the crash he was convinced he saw the girl’s phone in her hand. He’d stake his next year’s pay on the bet she’d been texting.

  Other drivers had stopped and someone tried to calm down the hysterical teenager. Sirens could be heard in the distance. Thank God.

  Beth continued to groan, and he noticed that her breathing had gone shallow and she was drifting in and out of consciousness. Not knowing what else to do, he reached for her hand and held it gently in his own. “The medics will be here any minute,” he reassured her softly. “Hold on. Everything will be better once they get here.”

  She tried to speak, he noticed, but seemed unable to form words. Her eyes were intently focused on him.

  Sam picked a piece of glass from her hair and then brushed another from her forehead. Blood marred her face. He would have given anything to comfort her, but he didn’t know what more to say or do. Holding her hand seemed lame, but under these circumstances he didn’t know what else was possible. Her gaze held his, as if fixing on him gave her what she needed to endure the pain.

  The fire department arrived and a team of men raced toward Beth. One of the men asked Sam to stand back, which he did, albeit reluctantly. Beth groaned loudly in protest when he released her hand.
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  Sam could hear them speaking to one another, and although he couldn’t understand all the medical jargon, he knew enough to figure out that she had suffered multiple fractures. Thankfully, the airbag had deployed, which saved her from greater injury.

  He waited while the firemen pried open the badly dented door. Police arrived and began asking him questions. His heart continued to pound as he watched the team work to free Beth from the tangled vehicle.

  “You witnessed the accident?” the officer asked, pad and pen in hand.

  “Yes. I was stopped at the red light. Beth entered the intersection when the signal turned green.”

  “You know the victim?”

  “I only met her tonight.”

  “Are you sure the light was green?”

  He glared at the police officer. “Positive. The other driver was texting.”

  “You saw that?”

  “No, but if I were you I’d check her phone.”

  The cop nodded. “I’ll do that.”

  The girl was being attended to by a medic and continued with hysterics, claiming her brakes had failed. Thankfully, she admitted she’d run a red light. Her sobs echoed into the night. She seemed far more worried about her father’s reaction to the accident than about the fact that her carelessness had badly injured Beth. Sam wanted to shake some sense into her but knew anything he said or did wouldn’t be appreciated. The questions went on for what seemed like an eternity. Even while being interviewed, he couldn’t take his eyes off Beth. Once the door was removed and she was lifted from the vehicle, she cried out in what could only be excruciating pain. Sam grimaced and glared once more at the teenager who’d caused the accident. Beth was placed on a gurney. He tried to see her as the medics placed her inside the emergency vehicle. As best he could tell, she was now unconscious.

  “Where are they taking her?” he demanded.

  The traffic cop looked up from the pad on which he was writing. “Most likely Providence. It’s the closest.”

  “Can you find out for sure?”

  “No.” He seemed agitated that Sam would interrupt his questioning.

  “Then I’m following the medics. She’s new in town and only knows a few people.” He wasn’t sure where this protective attitude was coming from, but it consumed him. For whatever reason, he felt it was important that Beth not be alone. Conscious or not.

  “Is there someone you can call for her? A relative? A friend?”

  Of course. Nichole. He hadn’t thought of her until that very moment. He reached for his phone and hit the number for Rocco. His friend picked up on the third ring.

  “Okay, Sam, I know what you’re going to say—”

  “There’s been a car accident,” he said, cutting off the other man. “Beth is badly injured. I saw the whole thing.”

  “What?” Rocco asked, seemingly stunned.

  “Beth was in a car accident,” he repeated. “Some kid was on her phone and ran the red light, slamming into Beth, hitting her broadside. She’s hurt, Rocco, badly. She’s being rushed to the hospital…cop thinks Providence.”

  Rocco didn’t answer him and then his friend shouted for Nichole. He heard the urgency, and Nichole must have, too, because Sam heard her ask, “What is it?” This was followed with a few short, sharp sentences as Rocco repeated what Sam had just told him.

  They, too, had a short discussion. “We’re going to the hospital. Nichole is contacting Leanne to see if she can come stay with the kids. We’ll get there as quickly as we can.”

  “I’ll meet you there,” Sam said, his voice filled with resolve.

  Rocco hesitated. “You sure you want to do that? You barely know Beth.”

  “Yes,” he shouted, hardly understanding it himself. “I’ll see you soon.” With that, he disconnected the line.

  The investigating officer held him up for an additional twenty minutes, with repeated questions that put Sam on edge. He’d already told the officer everything he knew. For reasons he would be hard pressed to explain, he felt this compelling need to get to Beth. At this rate Rocco and Nichole would make it to the hospital before he did.

  When he was finally able to break free, he raced to the medical facility, driving ten miles above the speed limit. If he wasn’t careful he’d be in an accident himself. Parking wasn’t convenient, and he ended up in the garage on the sixth floor. By the time he made it to the emergency room waiting area, he was breathless.

  He didn’t see Rocco or Nichole, so he hurried to the front desk, hungry for information.

  “I’m here to find out about the car accident victim? She was brought in no more than thirty minutes ago.”

  The woman whose name tag identified her as Susan McNeil asked, “Name?”

  “Sam Carney.” As soon as he spoke he realized she was asking about Beth. “Sorry. I’m Sam. The woman who was brought here by paramedics—the victim of a car crash. Her name is Beth.”

  “Last name?” she asked, punching a few computer keys. When he didn’t immediately answer, the nurse glanced up.

  Sam was no help. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember. Nichole had mentioned it when she made the introduction, but it was completely out of his mind now. Fact was, Sam hadn’t paid that much attention. He didn’t expect he would ever see her again. “Sorry, I don’t know.”

  “You’re not a relative?”

  “No.” That much should be obvious. This was like talking to the police officer all over again. He got little information while he was repeatedly asked questions he found difficult to answer.

  The sliding glass doors leading in from the outside opened and both Rocco and Nichole came rushing into the waiting area. They immediately joined Sam at the front desk.

  “She’s asking for Beth’s last name,” Sam said.

  Nichole supplied it.

  “Are you a relative?” Susan McNeil asked.

  “No, I’m a friend.”

  Susan nodded. “Do you have the contact information for any relatives?”

  “No, sorry. Beth is going to be all right, isn’t she?” Nichole’s voice trembled with concern.

  “Sorry, I’m not allowed to give out information,” Susan said.

  “Beth was just at our home for dinner. She left about forty-five minutes ago.” Nichole was visibly upset. “I can’t believe this has happened.”

  Sam felt unsettled as well. Witnessing the accident had shaken him. When he’d left dinner, he hadn’t had feelings toward Beth one way or another. She seemed nice. Nothing special but pleasant.

  He’d gotten her message and she’d gotten his. As soon as he realized she’d been finagled into this the same as him, he’d relaxed. They’d both been in a rush to escape, nearly knocking each other over in their eagerness to get out the door. He’d smiled about it at the time, but he found little amusing at the moment.

  “Beth hasn’t lived in Portland long,” Nichole was explaining to the woman at the desk, breaking into Sam’s musings.

  The hospital employee made a notation in the computer.

  “I know she has an aunt living in the area,” Nichole supplied. “Her family all lives in Chicago.”

  “Do you happen to know the aunt’s name?”

  Nichole exhaled as if rummaging through the filter in her brain. “I believe it’s Sunshine.”

  Susan McNeil glanced up and narrowed her gaze. “Sunshine is her given name?”

  “I…don’t know, but probably not.”

  The questions continued, with Nichole answering as best she could. One thing was clear, the three of them were the only ones waiting for word on Beth’s condition.

  Once the hospital had collected as much information as they could from Nichole, the woman manning the desk said, “If you’d like to wait, I’ll let you know about your friend as soon as any news is available.”

  “Thank you,” Nichole whispered and turned away from the desk.

  Rocco and Sam followed her into the crowded waiting area. They were fortunate to find three seats in close
proximity. Rocco and Nichole sat together and Sam took the chair across from them.

  As soon as they were seated, Nichole leaned forward. “Tell us what happened.”

  Sam relayed the details once again.

  “How badly injured was she?” This came from Rocco.

  “Bad. My guess is she has fractured ribs, and I suspect her hip is broken as well. I heard the paramedics mention a collapsed lung.”

  “Internal damage?” Rocco asked.

  Sam nodded. “It’s possible.”

  Nichole released a soft gasp. “She’s going to live, isn’t she?”

  Sam didn’t feel qualified to answer. “I can’t say.”

  “Was she conscious?”

  “Partly. I spoke to her, but I don’t know if she heard me or not. She was in a great deal of pain. I could see she was going into shock. I was the one who called for help.”

  “Did she say anything?” Rocco asked.

  “No.” All Sam could think about was the way she’d locked her eyes with his as if holding on to him, as if he would be the one to pull her through this crisis. In thinking about it, Beth had remained remarkably calm. Sam wasn’t sure he would have reacted the same.

  When they first sat down, Rocco and Nichole had been full of questions. As time wore on the conversation dwindled until there was nothing left to say.

  An hour passed. Rocco bought them coffee out of a machine. Sam took a sip, grimaced, and let the rest grow cold.

  He didn’t know why it was taking this long. He got up to stretch his legs and strolled past the front desk. Susan McNeil glanced at him and gave a gentle shake of her head as if to answer his unspoken question. She had nothing to tell him.

  When he returned to his seat, Rocco studied him as if he had something to say. If that was the case, it went unsaid.

  Sometime later, Sam glanced at the time. It’d been almost two hours since the accident.

  “There’s no need for you to stay,” Nichole told him.

  “You can leave if you want,” Rocco reiterated. “Nichole and I will let you know in the morning what we hear.”

  “No.” Sam’s response was adamant. He wasn’t leaving. No way. He wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about it, but he did. He wouldn’t desert Beth now, not after the way her eyes had held his. He had to know if she was going to survive this.