Angel Song

by Sheila Walsh

  The nurse grabbed her arm, clamping so tight that it almost jerked Ann backward. “They’re taking her straight into surgery. We’re going to do everything we can for her, but we need you to stay out of the way.”

  Ann tried to yank her arm away, but the woman held fast. “Let me go.”

  “Your sister wasn’t the only one in that car. We’ve got to get you in a back room and take a look at you too.” Her calm voice carried that oh-so-concerned tone that didn’t at all match the I’ll-take-you-in-a-smackdown look on her face. But Ann would take Bouncer Nurse on in a heartbeat if it meant helping Sarah.

  Then she saw a couple of uniformed officers heading their general direction and decided to try a calmer approach. The last thing she wanted was to get kicked out of here. “I’m fine. All you can do for me is take care of my sister.”

  “Let’s let the doctors be the judge of that, honey!”

  It occurred to Ann that if she was inside the ER, rather than in the waiting room, she might overhear things that were happening, find out about Sarah a lot sooner. In truth, her left arm did ache a little, and her hand and left cheek stung. It was worth the chance. “Okay, where do I need to go?”

  “Just come with me.” The syrup that now dripped from the nurse’s voice could clog arteries, but she didn’t loosen her grip in the slightest. She simply began to move slowly toward the doors labeled Emergency Room Entrance.

  Ann was soon ensconced in a cubicle of curtains furnished only with a bed and two small chairs. Bouncer Nurse dropped a folded piece of pale blue fabric on the bed. “Put that on, and one of the doctors will be with you soon.”

  “Get him in here fast. I need some answers.”

  “Don’t we all?” The nurse didn’t bother to look back as she pulled the curtains shut behind her.

  Ann put her arms through the oversized holes and was attempting to tie the back side together when she heard a male voice just outside the curtains. “Ms. Fletcher?”

  Ann pulled the back edges of her gown together as best she could and sat on the bed. “Yeah, I’m ready.” She looked down at the cuts on her left arm. They didn’t look that deep—at least not to her. “I’m really fine. I do not want stitches in my arm, it will be . . .” Ann looked up at the doctor—except it wasn’t the doctor at all. It was one of the uniformed policemen she’d seen out front.

  “I’m sorry to do this now, but I really need to ask you a few questions.”

  Ann nodded once. “Okay.”

  He sat in one of the chairs, pen and paper in hand. “Can you tell me what happened tonight?”

  “I . . . we . . . had just gone out for dinner. Sarah, my sister, is getting her master’s degree on Friday. Social work. She wants to help inner-city kids.” Ann didn’t know why she was giving him all these details. She knew it was not the kind of information he was looking for, but somehow it was important to her that he understood who Sarah really was, to see that she was not just another statistic.

  “Sounds like she’s an amazing person.” His voice was gentle.

  “Yes, she is.” Which is why everyone loved Sarah so much.

  The officer cleared his throat. “What do you remember about the accident?”

  “We were on our way home from dinner downtown. We’d stopped at the light on Calhoun, where it meets Rutledge. I was teasing her about some guy who’d been flirting with her. The light turned green, I looked over to say something, and all of a sudden there were these headlights right over her shoulder, coming fast. The light was so bright.” Ann rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the image. “I don’t know if Sarah ever saw it coming.”

  The officer wrote something on his pad, nodding slightly as if he understood. Then he looked up and in a matter-of-fact voice asked, “Had your sister been drinking at dinner?”

  “What?” Ann jumped off the bed and pointed toward the curtain. “Get out of here.”

  “Look, I’m sorry to have to ask this. In fact, I’m sorry that events occurred that make this conversation necessary. I know this is very difficult for you, but the more answers I get, the better we can piece this puzzle together.”

  “That other car ran the red light and hit us. Why should you care whether or not Sarah had a drink? Why should it matter if she was shnockered, as far as that goes?”

  He didn’t look offended by this outburst. “Just trying to get the whole story.”

  “No.” Ann slowly lowered her hand and sank back onto the bed. “No, she didn’t have anything to drink other than tea.”

  He nodded and wrote something on his notepad. “Are there any other details you can give me?”

  “We were stopped at the light, first car in line, so I know it was green when we went through. The other car just came out of nowhere. It was moving so fast, right over Sarah’s shoulder. It just kept coming, so fast, so fast . . .” Ann rubbed her eyes again. “There’s not much else I can tell you.”

  “Do you have a number where I can reach you in case there are more questions in the next few days?”

  After Ann wrote down her cell number, the officer stood. “Thank you for your help.”

  Ann looked up. “The other driver, did you ask him if he’d been drinking? That’s what happened, isn’t it? He was so drunk or high he never saw the light, never saw our car.” The memory of fast-approaching headlights burned Ann’s eyes. “Tell me you’ll never give him the chance to do this to someone else. Tell me you’re going to lock him up and keep him there.”

  “I’m afraid not.” He put the pen in his pocket, then tugged one side of the curtains open. He waited the space of a heartbeat before he turned. “He died on impact.”

  “Oh.” Ann shook her head and started to cry again. “Somehow that never even occurred to me.”

  “I’ll call you if I have any further questions.” He disappeared through the curtains, pulling them closed behind him.

  Chapter 2

  “Other than a few cuts and bruises, you appear to be just fine. I’m sure you’ll be sore for the next few days, but let us know if you develop difficulty breathing, severe abdominal pain, or blurry vision.” The bone-thin brunette in the white coat had the bleary look of someone who hadn’t slept in a few days. The exhaustion sounded with each word—or maybe it was just boredom.

  “Yeah. Sure. Now, what’s going on with my sister?” Ann’s plans to eavesdrop had failed miserably. Other than the occasional moan from the person in the cubicle next door, and the sound of retching from farther down the hall, she’d heard absolutely nothing. She needed to know how the surgery was going. She needed to know if Sarah’s blood pressure was still falling and if her respiration was still shallow. She needed to know that Sarah was going to make it. “Is she all right?”

  “After you get dressed, there is a waiting room just down the hall and through the door. Have a seat, and you’ll be notified as soon as we know something.” The doctor pushed through the curtain dividers and was gone.

  Ann reached for her white buttonup shirt, but what she saw made her stop short. The left side was mottled with the claret splatter of her sister’s blood.

  How had this happened? This was supposed to be a weekend of rejoicing, of celebration. Not this. No, nothing like this.

  Why hadn’t the other driver stopped? Why had he done this to himself, and to them?

  It took all of her determination, but after a few seconds of deep breathing, Ann managed to pick up the shirt, put it on, and slog to the waiting room. A woman with bright red hair and too much makeup sat behind the counter window. “Miz Fletcher, if you don’t mind, we’ve got a little bit of paperwork we need you to fill out.”

  If I don’t mind? “What is it?”

  “Oh, just the usual forms. You poor darling, I know you don’t feel like dealing with all this right now, but I don’t suppose you’d have your sister’s insurance information, would you?”

  Ann glared. “No, I don’t have it. We were in a car wreck; her purse was in the car. I don’t have mine either. It was in the sam
e car, the one that was wrecked.” Ann felt her hand tremble as she rubbed the back of her neck. She was going to lose it if she had to answer one more stupid question.

  Another woman, sitting far enough to the left of the window that Ann hadn’t seen her before, rolled her chair into view.

  “Wait, somebody brought your things in.” She pulled out a key from the desk and went to a cabinet against the back wall. A moment later she handed Ann two purses. One was sleek black leather, the other a neon pink tote covered in white polka dots.

  “How did these get here?”

  She shrugged. “Someone from the accident site brought them in.”

  Ann dug through the tote until she found Sarah’s wallet. It was jammed with membership discount cards to the Piggly Wiggly, bookstores, and video rental places. Finally, she found what appeared to be an insurance card, handed it to the woman, and answered the necessary questions to the extent that she could.

  “Okay, sweetie, I’ll let you know as soon as there’s something to know. You can have a seat in here if you want. Or, if you prefer, there’s a chapel on the fourth floor.”

  “I’ll wait here, thanks.” Ann didn’t plan to go anywhere until she knew that Sarah was out of surgery.

  The room was lined with brown vinyl-covered seats. The right half of the space was filled by a couple dozen people who seemed to be together. Ann took a seat on the far left and studied them, wondering what kind of tragedy had brought them here.

  At the center of the group was a couple who looked to be in their forties. The woman was clearly at her breaking point, tears pouring down her face while her husband held her. Those poor people were fellow sufferers in tragedy. Ann had the most peculiar desire to run over and hug them.

  A few other adults stood with them, but most of the group were teenagers. The boys all looked beefy and moved with the cockiness of athletes; the girls were all pretty—long hair and makeup, dressed to draw attention.

  The back doors swung open, and a gray-haired man in a white coat came in. Ann jumped to her feet and rushed toward him, but he ignored her and walked toward the large group. The low hum of conversation was swallowed by silence as they gathered around him.

  Ann returned to her seat, but she didn’t bother to pretend she wasn’t listening. They were all in this together, and it mattered very much to her how her compatriots fared in their journey. The doctor looked at the mother when he spoke. “There are multiple compound fractures. We’re prepping him for surgery right now, and it’s going to be quite a long procedure.”

  Surgery. Compound fractures. Ann wondered if the young man in question had been in an accident too. Had his poor mother ridden in the back of the ambulance with him while he hummed and talked to people who weren’t there? Fresh tears stung Ann’s eyes.

  “Will he be okay?” The mother sobbed through each word.

  “He’ll be laid up for a while, lots of physical therapy, but he’ll be fine.”

  Ann almost shouted with the relief of it. There was good news coming through this place. She felt her own hope buoyed as she waited to hear the mother rejoice.

  The woman sniffed and wiped her eyes with a tissue. “He’s coming up on his senior year, and football means everything to him. Will he be able to play this fall?”

  Ann’s goodwill crashed down around her ankles. What? All this commotion was from a woman who was concerned her son might miss a season of football? Did she have no concept of true pain? Everything inside of Ann wanted to walk across the room and tell this woman exactly how much worse things could be—about Sarah, who was supposed to graduate in less than forty-eight hours, about the people she wanted to help, about the crash that was threatening to take it all away.

  Ann leaned forward and wrapped her hands around her head. One, two, three, four. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. Keep your mouth shut. Five, six, seven—

  “Is there something I can do to help you?” The masculine voice directly to Ann’s left side startled her into looking up. She recognized him as one of the adults from the other group. About her age maybe. He could have been a surfer—sun-streaked hair that fell to his shoulders, dark tan, Billabong T-shirt, and flip-flops.

  “No.” The word barely came across Ann’s quickly closing throat, so she shook her head. She stared at the double doors that Sarah had gone through just an hour ago. How was it possible that two hours ago she’d been laughing with Sarah over dinner?

  “You were in an accident?” His voice grew softer.

  Ann nodded. “My sister, Sarah, is in surgery right now.”

  “Sarah. I was afraid of that.” He said her name in almost a gasp, as if he too shared Ann’s grief. He looked silently toward the double doors, and Ann supposed he would return to his group. Instead, he remained seated beside her in awkward silence, shaking his head and mumbling. He jumped suddenly to his feet. “I know what I can do.” He dashed out the door without a backward glance.

  Ann looked toward the others and noticed that several of the teenagers, the boys in particular, were looking her way. She grew uneasy under their continued scrutiny, although she wasn’t sure why. Why should she care what a bunch of southern fried teenagers looked at?

  The blue sign on the wall said Chapel—Fourth Floor. Ann supposed there was no spiritual prerequisite for sitting in the hospital chapel. Maybe she could find some quiet there.

  She approached the redhead at the counter. “I’m going up to the chapel for a while, but I need to be notified immediately if my sister’s doctor comes out.”

  The woman nodded. “Don’t you worry one little bit about that. Write your cell phone number right here.” She handed Ann a piece of paper. “Make sure you have the ring tone turned off, though, okay? And if anybody comes looking for you, I’ll make ’em stay right here and call you to come down. You go spend a little time with the Lord. We could all use a little more of that.”

  “Sure.” Ann scrawled her cell number on the piece of paper, then looked for the stairwell. It required more than her limit of patience to wait for an elevator right now, and the four-story climb would help work off some of her anxiety. She ran up the stairs two at a time.

  By the time she reached the fourth floor, she was breathing hard, which only seemed to aggravate the crushing weight that pushed against her chest. She shoved open the door to the chapel and found the first bit of relief she’d had all night. The place was empty. Finally something was working in her favor.

  The inside of the chapel was not what she’d expected. It didn’t look holy, or at least not what Ann pictured holy to look like. No polished oak pews, stained glass, or burning candles. Only a wooden altar of sorts that looked more like a buffet table or sideboard. On top of it sat a small potted plant and what Ann assumed was a Bible. The kneeling cushion below it could have been an artfully displayed throw pillow. A few wooden chairs were scattered around, and on the far side of the room, a fountain gurgled on top of a small cabinet. The ripple of water falling against the rocks reminded Ann of her occasional visits to day spas. Yes, all in all, a very Zen-like chapel.

  She dropped into the chair closest to the waterfall and farthest from the altar, relieved to be alone. For a long time she sat and did nothing but focus on breathing in and breathing out. Finally, she turned her attention back to the room. When her eyes came to rest on the Bible, she looked toward the acoustic tile on the ceiling and spoke aloud. “You know, now would be a good time to show Yourself and help Sarah.” Even atheists had been known to pray when in desperate trouble. But Ann knew that they were wasted words. God had never come through before—why should He start now?

  A single piano note silenced her thoughts. She hadn’t noticed any music in here. A second note added to another and another, until a melody began to form. The piano went on, playing the same song but no longer one key at a time. The music became multifaceted, rich, harmonious. She found herself wanting to move toward it, to blend with the liquid sound that stirred so deep she almost heard color in its notes. She lean
ed her head back and closed her eyes, simply listening, drinking it in.

  The unusual rhythm of the water-music swells washed through her until it seemed the song was part of her—as if every cell in her body pulsed with the sound. A feeling of utter peace grew with each new note and she wanted to stay here and listen forever. Right now, in this moment, she knew that everything was going to be all right. The feeling—the song—was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Except . . . this music had the same soothing rhythm as Sarah’s humming from the ambulance.

  It took her a moment to realize that it didn’t just have the same rhythm. It had the same tune.

  Exactly.

  The room began to feel small and stuffy, almost suffocating. Ann pushed to her feet and yanked open the door. She took a step out, drew a deep breath, and prepared to flee. She made it only one more step, though, because the surfer from downstairs was right in front of her, apparently pacing the hallway. He blushed when he saw her. “I’m sorry, but they told me you came up here, and well, I didn’t want to come into the chapel and disturb you, but I thought you might want this.” He thrust a bright green cloth toward her.

  Ann stared at the item in his hand.

  “It’s a shirt. I . . . uh . . .” He nodded toward her stained left side. “Well, I thought you might feel better if you . . . you know . . .” He swallowed loud enough that she heard him. “I thought of Sarah—and you just looked so sad, and I just felt in my spirit that I was supposed to help you, and I remembered this shirt that I had in the truck. It’s brand new, never worn. I got it last week and for some reason I just haven’t bothered to take it out of my truck yet. And well, this is really awkward, and I can see that you probably would prefer that I go away, and I’ll just go, but I just—”

  “Thanks.” Ann thought it best to interrupt him because she had no idea how much longer he might go on. “This was really thoughtful.” She took the shirt.