Even before Jeffrey died, Sara had never liked Lena Adams. She was dangerous. Arrogant. Sloppy. Jeffrey constantly complained about Lena’s headstrong ways, but Sara knew how her husband’s mind worked. There was no sexual attraction between them—sometimes Sara wished it had been that simple. Lena was simply a challenge that Jeffrey could not walk away from. She was a destructive little sister to his all-forgiving big brother. Jeffrey loved her toughness. He loved her fight. He loved that no matter how hard Lena was hit, she always got back up after being knocked down.
And if Lena couldn’t quite pick herself up, Jeffrey was always there to lend a hand. It was easy to take risks when you knew someone else would bear the consequences, which was exactly what had happened five years ago. Once again, Lena had gone off on her own, recklessly pursuing some very bad people. When they’d proven to be too dangerous for Lena to handle, she’d called Jeffrey to save her, just like she’d done countless times before. Only this time, this last time, the bad people hadn’t backed down. This time, instead of making Lena pay, they had murdered Jeffrey.
Sara had no doubt that this same scenario had played out with Jared. Motorcycle cops didn’t have hit squads break into their houses. Sara would’ve bet her life savings on Lena yet again pissing off some very bad men who’d decided just like the last bad men that the best way to punish Lena was to take away the thing she loved most.
As if Lena Adams was capable of loving anything.
The elevator doors slid open. Same crisp white. Same bright lights. Sara was on autopilot as she followed the arrows to the ICU waiting room. She walked by a tall man wearing a blue and orange baseball hat. He didn’t recognize her, but Sara instantly knew Jerry Long, Darnell’s husband and Jeffrey’s boyhood friend. Everyone called him Possum because of a childhood accident involving illegal fireworks. He’d worshipped Jeffrey in that strange way that only straight men can. Possum had played wide receiver to Jeffrey’s quarterback. He’d married Jeffrey’s old girlfriend. He’d raised Jeffrey’s child.
Sara kept walking. She kept her head down, passing unnoticed.
As a doctor, her life had been spent anticipating what would happen next, thinking three or four steps ahead, but for some reason, Sara’s day was revealing itself in small slices. She hadn’t let herself think past the mundane tasks in front of her: Leave Grady. Now drive down the interstate. Now take the exit. Now park the car. Now go into the hospital.
Seeing Possum offered a small glimpse of what was to come. They would want to reminisce about Jeffrey. They would want to tell old stories about pranks and practical jokes and loose women and angry husbands and Sara would have to sit there and listen to all of it as if her life had stopped the moment his had.
And it had stopped. Everything had come to a standstill. But, eventually, it had to start moving again, and Sara had built a new life for herself—a life that they would not understand.
The guilt felt like a vulture sitting on her shoulder, waiting for the right moment to devour her.
Sara could only put one foot in front of the other as she continued down the hall. She turned into the small waiting room just outside the closed double doors of the ICU. The space was empty but for an older woman whose hair was more gray than brown.
“Sara,” Nell said. She was sitting on a love seat underneath a window. A pile of knitting was in her lap. Several magazines were splayed beside her.
There was only a five-year difference between them, but Nell had aged in that way good country women do—no hair color, no makeup, no laser treatments to remove sunspots or smooth out wrinkles. She looked, in fact, entirely her age, which was not something Sara was used to seeing in Atlanta.
“Don’t get up,” Sara told her, leaning down to pull Nell into a tight hug. Nell had always been stout and strong, but there was something fragile about her now. Helplessness had reduced her.
Still, Sara said, “You haven’t changed a bit.”
Nell barked a laugh. “Hell, honey, don’t lie. We got mirrors in Alabama, too.” She moved the magazines so Sara could sit beside her. She took Sara’s hand, which was unusual. Nell wasn’t affectionate. She was talkative, and sometimes abrupt to the point of rudeness, but she was also incredibly kind—the sort of woman you could call in the middle of the night no matter how many years had passed and she would move heaven and earth to come to your side.
The sort of woman Sara should be.
She tightened her hold on Nell’s hand. “I’m so sorry this happened.”
“I shouldn’t’ve bothered you. I was just …”
“I’m glad you did,” Sara told her, and in that moment, she really meant it. There was no way she could have stayed in Atlanta. This was where she belonged. “Is there anything I can do?”
Nell let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what you can do other than wait. They’re not telling me anything. Twenty-four hours, they say they might know more. What does that even mean?”
Sara knew that it meant they had no idea; it was all up to Jared now. Still, she told Nell, “It means he’s young and he’s strong and his body needs time to fight this.”
“I hope you’re right.” Nell let go of Sara’s hand. She tucked her knitting into a denim bag. “You were right about her, Sara. First Jeffrey and now this. That woman is nothin’ but poison.”
Sara felt a familiar tightening in her throat. “We should just concentrate on Jared right now.”
Nell shook her head. “She won’t leave the room. Just sits there in the corner like a damn gargoyle.” Her lips turned into a thin white line. “I can’t even stand to look at her. Takes everything I got not to spit in her face.”
Sara forced back the impulse to agree. It would do no good for them to feed off each other. “Who’s his doctor?”
“Shammers. Shaman. I can’t remember. Something foreign.”
“Is he with this hospital or did they call him over from Central Georgia?”
“No idea. He gave me his card.” Nell picked up her purse to search for it. “I don’t even know if this is a good hospital.”
“It’s good,” Sara told her, though she hoped they’d called in the bigger guns from the trauma center. “How long has he been out of surgery?”
She looked at her watch. “About an hour.”
“Did they give you any details?”
“Hell, Sara, I don’t know that medical stuff. He was shot with a shotgun. The pellets went everywhere. His head, his neck, and back.”
“Did any penetrate the skull?”
“They’re monitoring his brain swelling. I guess that means it went into his brain.” She turned to Sara. “They said they might have to release the pressure. Is that bad?”
Sara explained, “The skull has a fixed volume. If the brain swells, it needs somewhere to go.”
“So they just saw off the top of his head?”
“Not like you’re thinking. It’s a very precise surgical procedure.” She put her hand on Nell’s shoulder. “Don’t think about that until you have to, all right?” Nell reluctantly nodded. “What about his spinal cord?”
“You mean, will he be crippled?” She shrugged, a tight, jerky movement. “They’re keeping him knocked out. Said it’s best he sleeps, but I know my boy. He’d hate being pumped full of pain pills.”
Sara knew that Nell couldn’t fathom the amount of pain her son was in. “Did Jared say anything before they put him under?”
“Chief Gray told me he was unconscious when they brought him in. Do you know him?”
“Gray?” Sara nodded. “Jeffrey worked a case with him before we met. He trusted him. So does everyone else. Gray’s worked all over the state, received all kinds of awards.”
Nell wasn’t impressed. “For whatever that’s worth. Didn’t stop Jared from getting shot.” She started pulling things out of her purse. A hairbrush. Her pocket Bible. A tin of Burt’s Bees lip balm. “Where did I put that damn card?”
Sara asked, “How has Jared been lately?”
“He
althy as a horse.”
“No, not his health.” Sara didn’t know how to broach the subject, so she dove right in. “Has he been working a case he was worried about? Or has Lena been doing something?”
“Oh, he won’t say a word against her—not Little Miss Perfect.” Nell took out a blister pack of gum. She offered a piece to Sara.
Sara shook her head. “When’s the last time you talked to him?”
“He calls me every Sunday and Wednesday after church. Mind you, he’s not going himself. Stopped doing that once he met up with her.”
Today was Thursday. Sara asked, “So, you talked to him last night?”
“Nine o’clock and he was at a bar with his friends. What does that tell you?” Nell wasn’t looking for an answer. “Says something’s not right, that’s what it tells you. Wednesday night, he should be at home with his wife, not off somewhere drinking with his buddies.”
Sara kept her opinion to herself. Jared was a grown man. Married or not, he was entitled to a night out. “Did he say anything on the phone that sounded off?”
“No. Just the usual. ‘Work’s good. Lena’s great. Tell Daddy I said hey.’ Nothing but puppies and sunshine.” She snorted at the thought. “They didn’t even get married in a church. Did it downtown like they were signing a contract. You’ve met her uncle?” Sara nodded again. “He was the only one there on her side. That tells you everything you need to know right there. No friends. Nobody from work. Just some old piece of beef jerky looks like he belongs on the side of the road harassing people for money.” She pointed to her bare arms. “Had needle tracks up and down his arms. Didn’t even bother hiding ’em. God knows if they’re old or new.”
Sara pressed her lips together, catching a glimpse of that bottomless pit she’d barely managed to pull herself out of. “Nell, it won’t do any good getting worked up like this.”
Nell was obviously reluctant to let go, but finally she said, “You’re right. If I keep talking about her, I’m gonna end up going in there and killing her.” Nell looked down at her purse again and concentrated on digging around for the doctor’s card. “He needs his pajamas. He’d hate waking up in one of those gowns.”
“We’ll get some pajamas for him,” Sara offered, knowing there was no point.
“I want to see the house. I’ve only seen pictures. What do you make of that? I’m less than four hours away, but she’s never invited me for Christmas or holidays or nothing.”
Sara wasn’t about to take up for Lena, but she doubted Nell had made things easy. “The forensic team is probably still there.”
“The forensic team.” Nell let the words settle. “I want to go by the house. I want to see where it happened.”
“That’s probably not a good idea,” Sara countered. “The police don’t clean up before they leave. It’ll look just how it did last night.”
Nell seemed shocked by the information. She recovered quickly, taking a small notebook and a pen out of her purse. “I’ll tell Possum to go by the dollar store. There’s one right off the exit.” She clicked the pen and started writing. “We’ll need a bunch of rags. Lysol spray. Trash bags. Some gloves. What else—bleach?”
Sara tried to reason with her. “There are services that take care of this kind of thing.”
“I’m not gonna let some stranger clean my baby’s house.” She sounded appalled. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Sara knew better than to argue.
“Why would anyone do this?” Nell asked. “He’s always been the sweetest boy. Never said a hard word against anybody. Always helping people. Never asking for anything in return. Why, Sara? Why would someone hurt him?”
Sara shook her head, though Lena’s name was on the tip of her tongue.
“His eyes are taped shut. He’s got all kinds of tubes coming out of him. They got this plastic thing looks like a Connect Four sticking out of his side.”
“That’s probably a Pleur-evac,” Sara guessed. “It helps keep his lung open to give it time to heal.”
“Well, you’ve just told me more than anybody else has, thank you very much.”
Sara doubted this was true. She’d seen the glazed look in Nell’s eyes before. In traumatic situations, it was hard to understand the information being conveyed by doctors, let alone ask salient questions.
Sara told Nell the same thing she told the families of her patients. “Write down all your questions as they come. If I can’t answer them, then we’ll find someone who will. All right?”
“That’s good. I should’ve thought to do that. I’ve just been so …” She couldn’t finish the thought. “I mean, seeing him all—” Her words were cut off by a guttural sound. She lowered the notebook and pen to her lap, the shopping list forgotten. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Sara wondered if she was wishing her husband would return. More likely, she was praying her son would walk through the door.
Sara took Nell’s hand again, but she couldn’t look at her. The pain was too raw. While Sara witnessed the possibility of death almost every single day, knowing Nell, knowing Jared, made it different. She had lost her outsider’s perspective.
“Well, this is useless.” Nell’s voice was filled with self-recrimination. “Crying never helped anybody.” She pulled a pack of Kleenex from her purse and dried her eyes. “I haven’t told Delia.” Jared’s sister, Nell’s youngest child. “She’s working in the Gulf. She’s a vet now. Did you know that?” Sara nodded. “They got her scraping oil off sea turtles. She says the whole damn coast is still a tar pit.”
“You need to tell her.”
“What do I say? ‘That bitch your brother married mighta got him killed’?” Nell shook her head, visibly angry. “I knew when I found out he was seeing her that nothing good would come of it.”
Sara said nothing.
“He kept it from me for a full year. He knew I wouldn’t approve. He knew why, too.” Nell blew her nose in the Kleenex. “You warned me, Sara. You warned him, too. There’s no harm in a big fat ‘I told you so’ right about now.”
Sara didn’t respond. She got no joy from being right.
“Jared just wouldn’t listen. Kept saying Jeffrey knew the risk when he put on the badge. Like she had nothing to do with it. Like she didn’t abandon him when the going got tough.” Nell’s mouth twisted with disgust. “Part of me wonders if I’d just shut up about her, maybe he woulda gone on to somebody new.”
The arguments were so familiar that Sara could practically recite them along with Nell. She’d tortured herself with the same recriminations after Jeffrey had died. Sara should’ve stopped him from working with Lena. She should’ve put her foot down. She should’ve told him that it was too dangerous, too risky, to get involved in Lena’s life.
But his focus had always been on saving other people, never on saving himself.
Sara told Nell, “You can’t second-guess yourself.”
“Can’t I?” She indicated the waiting room. “I got all the time in the world to think about everything I’ve done wrong.”
Sara forced a change in subject. “I saw Possum in the hall.”
Nell slumped back against the couch. She didn’t speak for a few seconds. “He’s just a wreck. Keeps breaking down. I ain’t seen him cry like that in five years. Won’t listen to the doctors. Won’t go into Jared’s room. It’s not because of Lena. He always got along with her. You know how friendly he is. The man would talk to a stump about its knots. But all this stuff—” She waved her hand in the air, indicating the hospital. “It just brings it back for him. You, too, I guess.”
Sara looked past Nell at the floral painting on the wall. Unbidden, she thought about Will. Lying on the couch with him. Watching TV. His arms around her. Their dogs piled around them.
Nell said, “We all went to the hospital that night.” She didn’t have to say which night. “Drove straight through without stopping. Like there was any use him being at a hospital. Nothing could be done for him by then. Hell, if there was so
mething to do, you woulda done it.”
Sara felt the image of Will slip away. The vulture was back with its guilt, digging its talons into her flesh.
Nell continued, “I know we lost touch with you for a reason. It’s just too painful, isn’t it? And here I dragged you back down into all of it. I’m sorry for that, Sara. I didn’t know who else to call.”
Sara nodded. All she could manage was, “Jeffrey would’ve wanted me here.”
Nell said, “I wish to God I’d told him about Jared sooner. Given him a chance to know his son.”
“He understood why you didn’t,” Sara said, thinking that was only half a lie. Jeffrey had been trying to find a way to connect with Jared before he died. It was a tricky proposition. Nell could be a hard woman, and Possum deserved better than to have some other man come in and try to be Jared’s father.
Nell asked, “Do you remember the first time I met you?”
It felt like a hundred years ago, but Sara said, “Yes.”
“You musta thought Jeffrey was crazy drivin’ you down past where Jesus lost his sandals.”
Sara smiled. Sylacauga, Alabama, was the very definition of rural, but she had been so pleased that Jeffrey wanted her to meet his family, his people. “We crashed your garden party.”
“You told me you were a stripper.”
Sara laughed. She’d forgotten that part. Nell had prompted the response, asking Sara whether she was a stewardess or a stripper. They’d all had this idea of Jeffrey in their heads—the sort of man he was, the type of woman he dated.
And they had been so wrong.
“Anyway,” Nell said. “We’re miserable enough without digging up the past. I know you still deal with it every single day.” Again, she took Sara’s hand in her own, but this time, she smoothed out the finger where Sara’s wedding ring used to be. “I’m glad you took it off, darlin’. Someday when enough time’s passed, you’ll find a way to move on.”
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