I kneel in the same spot for a long time, blank and drained. My mind doesn’t sharpen until I hear the wail of sirens far in the distance.
Then the blankness is replaced by a terror so powerful, I’m still frozen in place when the phone begins to ring.
* * *
I run.
I run so hard and with such focus, I don’t see Coop’s red truck blast past me down the boulevard leading into town. I can’t see anything, I can’t hear anything except the solemn voice of the young man calling from the hospital. The words play on a dark, terrible repeat inside my head.
“We found your number in his clothing. There’s been an accident.”
Accident.
Three simple syllables with the power to ruin lives.
I pump my arms and legs as hard as they can go, my chest heaving, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. I’m barefoot, but I don’t feel the cold asphalt of the road under my feet. I don’t feel the misty morning air on my face, or hear my harsh, labored gasps, or smell the sea breeze. I’m half-dead already.
If Theo’s gone by the time I get to the hospital, the rest of me will follow.
“Megan!”
My name sounds as if it’s been shouted at me from underwater. It’s muffled, distorted, a long way away. I keep running.
“Megan!”
A red truck pulls next to me in the street. The window is down. Coop is shouting my name. I remember I called him to come get me because I didn’t have a car, and sob in relief.
I slow just enough to yank open the door and throw myself inside. Without waiting for the door to close, Coop slams his foot against the gas pedal, and we rocket down the street.
“How bad is it?”
My teeth chatter so hard, I can barely manage to answer Coop’s question. “I don’t know. They didn’t say. They just said come quick.”
“Fuck.”
No more words are spoken. In a few short minutes, we screech to a stop outside the emergency room doors of the only hospital in Seaside. I’m out of the truck before Coop has time to shut off the engine.
I burst through the doors and look wildly around, panting in panic. I throw myself at the admission desk, startling the plump brunette sitting behind it when I start shouting.
“Theo Valentine! I’m here for Theo Valentine! Where is he? Where is he? I have to see him!”
“Ma’am, please, calm down!” She rises, hands held up, eyes wide.
I know I look like a madwoman, but I don’t care. Furious, I pound my fists on the desk and scream, “Take me to him now!”
Coop grabs my shoulders and peels me off the desk.
“Mornin’, Angela,” he says to the brunette, firmly wedging me under his arm. “Sorry ’bout that. We’re all upset—got a call they brought Theo in.”
I lean against Coop and weep into his flannel shirt, so scared, I’m delirious.
“Yes, not long ago,” says the brunette, sounding rattled. “I’ll see if I can get someone to come out and talk to you. Why don’t you have a seat in the waiting room?”
“Thanks.”
Coop drags me away from the desk and down a short hallway, catching me every time I stumble, his arm the only thing holding me up. When we round the corner and enter a sterile, brightly lit room filled with rows of chairs and one sickly plant dying in a corner, I pull up short, shocked to see Colleen sitting there in her Catwoman costume, crying.
She looks up, catches sight of me and Coop standing in the doorway, and cries harder.
She wails, “I can’t go through this again, Coop!”
I don’t know what’s happening. My mind is broken. Nothing makes sense.
Coop gently sets me in a chair opposite her, makes sure I’m steady, then kneels in front of her and takes her hands. “What happened, Colleen?”
Through her sobs, she tells the story. “W-we were at the Halloween party at Booger’s. Craig and I… We got into a fight. He was flirting with every girl there, just being obnoxious about it. And I know it was bad timing, but I was so mad, I told him about the baby—”
“Baby?” Coop says, startled.
Colleen nods, her shoulders shaking. “We haven’t been dating very long. He wasn’t h-happy”—she hiccups, wiping the back of her hand across her face—“and said it probably wasn’t even his.”
His voice hard, Coop says, “Do I know this idiot?”
“Craig Kennedy. From Capstone Construction,” she whispers.
Coop curses under his breath. “Okay. Go on.”
“We left the party late and went back to my house. We kept fighting. H-he was drinking. He was drinking a lot.”
Fighting nausea, I close my eyes. Not again. Please God, not again.
“When he was leaving, I tried to stop him. I grabbed his keys, but he pushed me down and left. I was terrified he was going to hurt someone, so I followed him in my car and I…I called 9-1-1.”
“That’s good,” murmurs Coop. “You did the right thing.”
Colleen looks up at him. Mascara tracks long black streaks down her cheeks. Her face is red and wet, and her eyes are haunted. “It didn’t matter, though,” she whispers hoarsely. “He ran through that red light anyway. He hit that little car with his big sedan without even tapping his brakes. I saw the whole thing. Thought I’d die from shock. I ran up the curb on Broadway before I could get control of my car.”
Her face crumples, she squeezes her eyes shut, and she winds her arms protectively around herself and starts rocking. “When I went over to the sedan, Craig was bleeding on his face, but his airbag had deployed. I think he was just disoriented, not badly hurt. Then I went to the other car…and…I saw Theo inside. Craig T-boned his car in the middle of an intersection, just like what happened to Theo last time.”
She folds over into herself, dissolving into loud, body-racking sobs. “Why would God do this to me again, Coop? How could he make me go through this again?”
Because God is a monster, I want to tell her. A monster who hates us both.
Before Coop can give her the hug he’s about to give her, I stumble over to Colleen and grab her, throwing my arms around her and squeezing her hard. She clings to me, sobbing.
I’m not sure who I feel worse for. Which of us has God fucked over the most?
I whisper, “You don’t have to go through it alone this time, Colleen. We’ll go through it together.”
“I know you and Theo are dating,” she sobs. “I saw you together at the party, then Suzanne told me you’d been seeing him, and I’m so sorry…I’m just so fucking sorry—”
She breaks off into choked gasps and can’t go on.
“Okay, take it easy now, girls,” murmurs Coop. “We don’t know anything yet. Theo could be just fine.”
“Excuse me.”
A man’s voice from the doorway makes us all jump. It’s a doctor, tall, silver-haired, grim-faced. He looks over the three of us with a weary eye. “Which of you are with Mr. Kennedy?”
Colleen stands shakily. “That’s me.”
“Will you take a step outside, ma’am? The police are here. They’d like to talk to you.”
Colleen goes pale. “How is he?”
Sighing, the doctor smooths a hand over his hair. “Physically, he’s fine. He suffered only a few minor cuts on his face. But if he has an attorney, you should call him.”
“He’s being charged with drunk driving?” says Coop.
The doctor looks at Coop for a moment, his gaze steady. “For the time being.”
I know exactly what he means. I hear a low, agonized moan, but don’t realize until Coop hugs my shoulders that the person making it is me.
“What about Theo Valentine? What’s his condition?” Coop’s voice is as harsh as fingernails scraping down a chalkboard. When the doctor hesitates, Coop snaps, “Just fuckin’ tell us, man, we’re family!”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t look good.”
Colleen bursts into a fresh round of sobs, Coop curses, and I make that sound again, th
e one like an animal dying.
The doctor says, “His internal injuries are too severe for him to be moved safely at the moment, but as soon as he’s stabilized, we’ll have to fly him to our sister hospital in Portland.”
“Why?” barks Coop, the only other person in the room capable of speech.
“They have a neurosurgical unit there. We have to relieve the pressure of the subdural hematoma—”
“I don’t speak doctor!” Coop roars.
After a beat, the doctor says quietly, “His brain is bleeding. His spleen is ruptured. He has half a dozen broken bones, including a shattered rib that punctured and collapsed a lung. Blood is filling his pleural cavity, which could collapse the other lung. Most importantly, his brain wave activity is minimal. His situation is very grave. I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but does he have a DNR?”
Though Coop has reined in his temper, he’s staring at the doctor with a dangerous look in his eyes. “What’s a DNR?”
At the same time, Colleen and I whisper, “Do not resuscitate.”
28
There was no room on the helicopter for anyone but the pilot, an EMT, and Theo, so when he’d finally been stabilized, Coop, Colleen, and I watched the copter take off from the roof of the hospital and head east until it disappeared into the horizon.
They wouldn’t let us see him. I took that as a terrible sign.
We did see Craig, however.
After the police gave him blood and urine tests for alcohol and interviewed Colleen, they led Craig out of the emergency room in handcuffs, shuffling and disheveled. Coop had to physically restrain me from attacking him.
Poor Angela, the woman behind the desk. She was so frightened by my banshee shriek and wild flailings as I lunged at Craig, she fled down the hallway and never looked back. A tall, burly orderly replaced her, giving me a hard stare when he sat down.
My reputation in Seaside must be growing legendary.
Colleen insisted she wanted to make the drive to Portland with me and Coop, but I ordered her to go home and rest. “You’ve got to take care of yourself,” I whispered. “For the baby, okay? I’ll call you as soon as we know anything.”
We embraced for a long time in the parking lot, crying in each other’s arms.
There was a chance Theo would pull through, but knowing God like I did, I wasn’t holding my breath for any more miracles. He was a bully who’d give you candy only so he could laugh at your tears when he stole it away.
Coop and I made the long drive together to the hospital in Portland in silence broken only by the radio playing a blues station.
When “At Last” came on, I had to switch it off.
There’s only so much pain a person can take.
* * *
The surgery took twelve hours, some of the longest and darkest of my life—which is saying a lot. When the doctor came out afterward and found Coop and me in the waiting room, it was almost midnight.
“We’ve done what we could,” he said, at which point my knees gave out and Coop had to carry me to a chair. I listened to the rest crying quietly on my back on a row of plastic hospital seats, all welded together and hard as winter ground.
“He’s in a medically induced coma. That was necessary because of the swelling in his brain. We’ll know more in a few hours, but I have to be honest with you…be prepared for the worst.”
He said something else, but I was no longer listening. I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of my sobs.
* * *
At ten o’clock the next morning, a pretty blonde nurse came and told us we could see him.
By then, I felt like death, and Coop was looking pretty hellish too. Neither of us had eaten or slept. Neither cared. We went into Theo’s room together, holding our breath and holding hands, quaking in fear at what we’d find.
I took one look at him and fell against Coop with a strangled cry of horror.
No one should look that bad and still be alive.
He was black, blue, and purple, and various shades of green. Both eyes were swollen shut. Lacerations slashed ugly red lines across his face and arms. His lips were bruised and disfigured by swelling. His head had been shaved on one side, and a tube stuck out of his skull, leaking yellow fluid. He was hooked up to a ventilator and various plastic tubes and beeping machines, and if it wasn’t for the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, I’d be certain he was dead.
After he caught his breath, Coop said in a tight voice, “Well, he’s looked better.”
I burst into tears and buried my face in his chest.
“C’mon, now,” he whispered, hugging me. “Dry your tears and go say hello.”
Heart pounding, I crept over to the bed. When I touched Theo’s hand, it was cold. I leaned over and kiss his forehead, and that was cold too.
Shaking, I whispered, “Don’t you dare leave me. Hold on. I need you. I love you. Come back to me.”
Theo made no response. Not a flicker of life crossed his face. His body was still there, but I had doubts about the rest of him.
Then the hardest part began.
Waiting.
29
“Just go home, Coop. There’s nothing more you can do here. You heard the doctor—they’re not going to bring him out of the coma for at least another few days, at the earliest. Go home to your kids, get back to your life. Make sure your crew doesn’t build a bar in my living room. I’ll call you the minute I have any news.”
Coop sighs, scrubs a hand over his face, and nods. It’s been three days since Theo had surgery. His vital signs are stable, but he’s still in critical condition. The doctors look at him like they can’t believe he’s still alive, and though that makes me want to punch them all in the face, it gives me a grim kind of hope. If he’s made it this far, maybe he’ll make it all the way.
“You gonna be okay here?” asks Coop, his face creased with worry.
“Okay or not, I’m not going anywhere.”
He looks at me for a long time. “You know, his parents both passed. He’s an only child, no real family to speak of.”
I whisper, “I know. You said.”
“My point is that he’s lucky to have you.”
My laugh sounds hollow. “No, Coop. I’m the lucky one. You have no idea.”
He looks like he wants to say something more, but then he shakes his head and exhales heavily, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll check on the Buttercup on my way home, see how everything’s goin’. I’ll call you later tonight.”
He pulls me from the chair I’m sitting in beside Theo’s bed and gives me a bear hug. Then he clasps Theo’s hand in farewell. “See you soon, buddy,” he says, his voice choked.
He turns and lumbers out, tears shining in his eyes.
Suzanne has already been out to bring me a change of clothes and have a breakdown at the sight of Theo. I had to take her into the hallway and prop her up in a chair so she could catch her breath.
Colleen and I have been talking on the phone every day. I have a feeling we’re going to become very good friends, no matter what the future holds.
Craig was charged with DWI and spent two days in jail. Depending on the outcome with Theo, other charges might be pending.
As for me, I’ve been sleeping in chairs and drinking too much coffee, and spending a lot of time on my knees in the hospital’s quiet little chapel, bargaining with God. Which is about as useful as trying to bargain with the earth to spin in the opposite direction, but it gives me something to pass the time.
Three days turn into four, four into seven. I check into a hotel near the hospital and rent a car. I receive daily updates from the doctors, but learn nothing new. I exist in a strange twilight zone of fluorescent lights and cafeteria food, endless terror and crushing guilt.
I crucify myself over all the things I should’ve told Theo while I had the time.
We always think we have enough of that precious commodity, until fate steps in and proves us wrong.
Then, on th
e tenth day after Theo’s accident, I get an early phone call from Coop.
“How’s it goin’? You been over to the hospital yet?”
“I was just on my way over. I’ve already talked to his doctor, though. Still no change.”
“Well, uh…I think you should, uh…” He clears his throat. “There’s somethin’ I want you to take a look at. Come on out to Seaside today.”
I’m combing my hair, still wet from my shower, but fall still when I hear the strange note in Coop’s voice. “What is it?”
Coop draws a breath. “It’s not somethin’ I could explain. You need to see this, Megan. I wouldn’t make you leave him if it wasn’t really important.”
“Is it the Buttercup? Is everything okay?”
“It’s not the Buttercup. We’re makin’ good progress on the house. This is…a lot more important.”
“Coop,” I say flatly. “I hate mysteries. And my nerves can’t take any more drama. What the fuck is so important that I have to come back to Seaside to see?”
Coop says quietly, “What I found in Theo’s barn.”
Goose bumps erupt all over my body. I think of that big, shiny chain threaded through the door handles of the ramshackle barn, and shiver.
“Theo uses his house as Hillrise’s headquarters—it’s like a showroom up there, just a beautiful example of his work—and I had to get some paperwork from the office for a client. Copy of an old invoice for their taxes. Anyway, I couldn’t find it in the computer, so I thought maybe we’d have it in storage in the barn.”
“And?” I prompt impatiently when he stops talking.
His answer is so soft, I have to strain to hear it. “And now I guess I know why Theo never let me go out there.”
Midnight Valentine Page 25
