Unraveled

by Heidi McCahan

  Jeremy’s brows knitted together. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing funny about it. Ironic, really. Nobody in that bar was going to let a drop of whiskey touch my lips. But my girlfriend managed to leave town pregnant, gave our baby up for adoption, and no one said a word?”

  Jeremy winced. “I don’t think you’re supposed to say ‘gave up.’” He quoted the air for extra emphasis.

  “Oh, excuse me if I’m not quite up on the current lingo.” He picked his rafting helmet up off the desk and chucked it across the room. It crashed into the wall and landed upside down, spinning like a top. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  Jeremy held up both hands. “Take it easy, man. This is new turf for all of us. I’m just trying to help. Saying ‘gave up’ just sounds so … cruel. Like you didn’t want him. I doubt that’s the case.”

  He winced. Even though he gave his younger brother a hard time for his free-spirited ways, Jeremy’s words were spot on. He drew in a ragged breath, puffed his cheeks and blew the air out slowly. “I just wish I’d known. You know? Maybe things would’ve been different.”

  After Lefty talked some sense into him last night, Blake left the bar and drove straight to his parents’ house. Then he crawled into his old bed and sobbed until he had nothing left. His mom came home from her night shift at the hospital and woke him up for breakfast.

  He’d shared the big news while she fixed her signature scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee. Emphasis on the coffee. Blake didn’t have the heart to turn down a meal when he knew she’d worked all night, but he could barely choke down more than a few bites. While he moved his food around on his plate, those were the words she’d repeated over and over. If only we’d known.

  “Do you think Dad knows anything yet?” Blake leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

  “I don’t know. Dad’s working almost around the clock on the new bridge project. I think he probably left before Mom got home.”

  “I’ve got to find a way to tell him myself.” Blake glanced at his watch. He could drive by the construction site on his way out to the river, but that wasn’t exactly the time or the place to break that kind of news to Dad.

  “Well, judging by the looks of the kitchen, Mom’s got a lot on her mind. That place was absolutely spotless when I stopped by.”

  Blake couldn’t help but smile. Mom always cleaned like a woman possessed when she was upset. Needless to say, she didn’t handle the baby bombshell well at all. In fact, Lauren better hope they didn’t cross paths anytime soon. Mom was devastated. Their families were such fixtures in each other’s lives for so long. This kind of betrayal was difficult to absorb. For everybody.

  “Come on. Ride with me. We’ve got a big afternoon ahead and they’re calling for a storm tonight.” Blake grabbed his keys and followed Jeremy out of the shop, locking the door behind him. He’d have to catch up with Dad some other time, not to mention sharing the news with Megan. His chest tightened. Here, baby sister, this is what you don’t do. Maybe he’d grab some steaks when they came off the river, fix a nice quiet dinner and spend some time with his family. Lord knows, he needed them now.

  "M-m-Mom made c-c-cookies. Would you l-l-like some?” Seth held out a chocolate chip cookie on a napkin.

  Lauren sat in an Adirondack chair at the edge of the yard, knees tucked up under her chin. She’d been there all afternoon, a one-woman pity party. Her mouth was dry, throat raw. Leave me alone. Mom and Dad—if she could even call them that— had been walking on eggshells since the recent revelation that they weren’t actually her parents.

  She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “No, thanks. You can have it, Seth.”

  “C-c-can’t. Hot d-d-date. Might r-r-ruin my ap-p-puh-tite.”

  Lauren glanced up at Seth. He’d shaved his beard and his freshly-washed curls glistened in the late afternoon sunlight. His khaki pants were ironed and he wore a new denim shirt, tucked in and everything. She thought she detected the slightest hint of cologne. Her mouth dropped open. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Seth Carter?”

  “Funny. I c-c-can clean up when I w-w-want to.”

  “Who’s the lucky girl?”

  A faint blush colored his cheeks. “Molly.”

  “Good for you, Seth. She was always such a sweet girl.”

  “Still is.”

  Lauren smiled. “You have fun tonight.”

  “Thanks. M-m-mom says d-d-don’t stay out here all n-n-night. M-m-mosquitoes. And a s-s-s-storm’s comin’.”

  Lauren nodded. “Thanks. I know.”

  Seth set the cookie and the napkin on the arm of her chair, patted her shoulder and walked away.

  Lauren sighed and tipped her head back against the top of the chair. Mom was right. She couldn’t stay in this chair much longer. The mosquitoes would eat her alive. She popped the cookie in her mouth, grabbed the napkin and headed for the house.

  Guests were arriving as she got to the front door, an adorable older couple from Maine. While Mom helped them figure out how to get back to town for dinner, Lauren stowed their luggage in their room. When she came back into the kitchen, Dad was sitting at the table, his radio and a cup of coffee in front of him. He motioned for her to join him.

  Swallowing hard, she perched on the edge of the chair across from him. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”

  “I’ve been better.” She smoothed the napkin out on the table and avoided his gaze.

  “I’m sure you have. Look at me.”

  Lauren dragged her eyes up to meet his.

  “Your mother and I, we are so sorry we never told you the truth.”

  “I know.”

  The front door closed and Mom came into the kitchen a minute later, sliding into the chair beside Dad. His radio crackled as another trooper called into the dispatcher. He turned down the volume.

  “And the news about … your baby—” He bit his lip and looked away. Mom rested her head on his shoulder.

  Lauren’s chest tightened and she felt another wave of tears cresting behind her weary eyes.

  Dad cleared his throat. “What I’m trying to say is that we love you. We’ve always loved you and nothing will ever change that.”

  Lauren nodded, swiping at the lone tear that trickled down her cheek. “I know.”

  “Sweetheart, talk to us. We know you must have so much on your mind. This isn’t a burden you need to carry alone anymore,” Mom said.

  “That’s the thing. I’ve lived like this for so long, I don’t know how not to. And I tried to talk to Blake this morning and he pretty much wants nothing to do with me. Everything is such a mess.”

  “We’re all going to have to dig deep on this one, sweetheart. This is a lot for us to handle all at once,” Mom said.

  “You think?” Irritation laced her voice. Mom flinched. Lauren instantly regretted her sarcasm. “I’m sorry. I should—”

  “You don’t have to apologize. Your world’s been turned upside down. We get that,” Dad said.

  “And I get that you’re probably wondering what in the world I was thinking. The orphan girl gives away your grandson. Doesn’t seem right, does it?” Take it easy. But the anger and hurt bubbled up within and she couldn’t tamp it down.

  “We didn’t—” Mom’s face flushed.

  “I couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing you,” she whispered, folding the napkin in half, then in fourths. “I was so ridiculously self-absorbed and the social worker said all the right things. A plan, the gift of a loving family, blah, blah, blah.” But she’d given little thought to the emptiness she’d carry with her once her baby—Blake’s baby—belonged to someone else.

  Sirens wailed in the distance and Dad reached for the volume on his radio. He twisted the knob and a woman’s voice came through the speaker. “Unit three, what’s your ETA?”

  “This is Unit three, en route to Crooked Creek put-in. ETA … about four minutes.”

  The hair on the back of Lauren’s neck s
tood on end. She glanced at Dad. “Crooked Creek? Isn’t that where Blake and Jeremy launch their trips?”

  He silenced her with a sober glance, leaning closer to the radio.

  “Unit three, I’m dispatching the swift water rescue team now. Reports of at least one victim trapped downstream.”

  “Copy that.”

  Lauren’s blood ran cold. Swift water rescue. What if it’s Blake? “Dad, we have to go.”

  A muscle in Dad’s jaw tightened. “Sweetie, it could be anybody out there. Kids messing around, a fisherman who waded out too far … there’s no way to know who’s involved.”

  She jumped up, her chair clattering to the floor. The storm had moved in and raindrops pelted the kitchen windows. Low lying fog swirled through the trees, obstructing her view of the water. “Who would be out in this?”

  “I don’t think the storm was supposed to roll in this quickly,” Mom said. “If you think you’re headed out, let me fix you some coffee.”

  “I’m a trooper, Deb, not an EMT. The last thing they need is a bunch of gawkers, interfering with their rescue.”

  Lauren turned back toward the table, rubbing her arms vigorously to ward off the ominous feeling that seeped to her core. “I’m worried it’s Blake. And Jeremy. Can’t we just go see?”

  Before Dad could respond, a male voice came through the radio again. “Dispatch, this is unit three. Confirming six victims in the water, four alert and responding to bystanders. Two adult male victims downstream, possible head trauma. Can I get an ETA on swift water rescue team?”

  “Head trauma?” She gripped the rail on the back of the closest chair, her chest tightening. “Dad, please. If you won’t go to the creek can we at least go to the hospital?”

  thirty one

  Dad drove into the hospital parking lot as the ambulance whipped into the circular drive in front of the emergency room doors. Lauren trembled. Please. No. Bile rose in her throat. Grabbing her purse, she was out of the car before Dad could turn off the ignition. A passel of nurses and doctors swarmed the ambulance. They snapped on latex gloves and barked orders as the back doors were opened. The white coats and scrubs blocked her view. She turned toward the main entrance of the hospital, determined to find out who was on that stretcher.

  The automatic doors whooshed open and she stepped inside. She brushed a stubborn curl out of her eyes and looked around. A man snoozed in one of the orange vinyl chairs in the corner, unfazed by the chaos outside. Even the nurses’ station was abandoned. An icy chill tingled down her spine. Without waiting for Dad, she headed for Granny’s room. Maybe she’d find someone—anyone—who knew what was going on.

  She stopped in the doorway, praying Shannon would be at Granny’s side. But Granny was asleep in her bed, mouth hanging open. A magazine had slipped to the floor and she leaned over to pick it up.

  “InStyle? You always were the fashionable one.” Lauren flipped through the first few pages. Granny stirred but didn’t open her eyes. She sighed and closed the magazine, sliding it back on the table next to the bed. Oh, Granny. If only you were awake, I’d ask you to pray. One tiny snippet of scripture popped in her head, long-dormant from her days in the high school youth group. Pray without ceasing. Although her prayers had probably seemed more like wish lists, she’d submitted her urgent requests to the Lord on the short ride to the hospital. If anything happened to Blake at this point, she’d never forgive herself.

  Commotion in the hallway interrupted her thoughts. She heard footsteps running and Shannon’s frantic voice. “I’ll check in here, sometimes she visits Mrs. Watson.” Shannon burst into the room and stopped short when her eyes met Lauren’s.

  “Shannon?” The color drained from her friend’s face. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, Lauren.” Shannon pressed her fingers to her cheeks.

  Lauren’s stomach clenched. This can’t be happening. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  Shannon lowered her hands, eyes wide with fear. “I really need to find Sandy.”

  “If you’re looking for Sandy then it has to be Blake. Tell me. Please.” Her voice was one she didn’t recognize as her own.

  Shannon swallowed hard and grabbed her hand. It was warm against Lauren’s clammy skin. “Dang it. This is a total HIPA violation but I can’t not tell you. Blake is in serious trouble. He was in the water a long time, Lo. His body temperature is dangerously low, they’re trying to rule out a spine injury. A near-drowning has tons of risks, I don’t even—”

  “Wait. Did you say drowning?”

  Tears filled Shannon’s eyes. “He was thrown from the raft, without a helmet, so they think he hit his head. Jeremy never lost consciousness but he’s a wreck and doesn’t really know what happened.”

  Lauren dropped her chin to her chest. Tears slid down her cheeks. What if Blake didn’t make it? Her heart ached as though it might split in two. If only she had told him the truth from the beginning. He had begged her to stay but she was too stubborn to listen. Just had to run off to Oregon and handle everything herself. And look where it got you? She watched Granny still sleeping, oblivious to the drama swirling around her. What now, Granny?

  She lifted her head and squeezed Shannon’s hand. “Is there any way I could see him? Just for a minute?”

  Shannon hesitated. She gnawed on her lower lip and then nodded. “Come with me. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Lauren blew Granny a kiss and followed Shannon out of the room. She battled back a wave of nausea. What if it was already too late? Hold on, Blake. I’m coming.

  "What do you think you’re doing?”

  Lauren nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned slowly and stared up into the piercing blue eyes of Ben Tully. He folded his arms across his chest, sweat ringing the armpits of his gray t-shirt. Grease stained the legs of his faded jeans and a frown dragged the edges of his mustache down. Shannon had deserted her in the hallway, just steps from Blake’s hospital room, in an effort to find a way to sneak Lauren in.

  “I just—I heard the call on my Dad’s radio. I was hoping it wasn’t Blake.” She gulped back a sob.

  Mr. Tully’s countenance crumpled. He swiped at his eyes with his beefy fingers and nodded. “Me too, kiddo, me too.”

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  He cleared his throat. “His mom is in there now. I came straight from work. I’m waiting on her for an update.”

  Lauren’s heart plummeted. If Mrs. Tully knew about the baby, and surely Blake had told her by now, she wouldn’t let her anywhere near her son.

  Shannon came out of Blake’s room, her face ashen. She pasted on a thin smile but Lauren could see the despair in her eyes. She stopped and slipped her arm around Lauren’s shoulders. “Hi, Mr. Tully.”

  “Shannon. How is he?”

  Shannon’s eyes darted between Lauren and Mr. Tully. “He’s on a ventilator. Dr. Wheeler’s on the phone with a swift water rescue trauma specialist in Anchorage right now. They’re talking about inducing a coma.”

  Mr. Tully began to pace the hallway, rubbing his temples and murmuring through tears. It was more than Lauren could stand to watch. She grabbed Shannon’s elbow and tugged her in the opposite direction. “A coma?” she hissed. “Are you serious?”

  Shannon hesitated. “He’s tolerating the ventilator but we’re not sure one hundred percent oxygen is enough after what he’s been through. I guess studies have shown controlled cooling through a comatose state helps the brain and the body recover.” She bit her lip. “That’s all I can tell you. I’ve said too much already.”

  “Ben?” They turned as Mrs. Tully came out of Blake’s room. Her face was streaked with tears and Mr. Tully pushed past the girls to scoop his wife into his arms, her blond ponytail bobbing as her body shook. Lauren and Shannon turned away as Mrs. Tully’s cries echoed in the hallway.

  “This is awful. I shouldn’t be here.” Lauren turned to go. She felt empty inside. She had given up her right to be part of the Tully family a long time ago.

  “Wait.�
��

  Lauren froze.

  Mrs. Tully stepped toward her, dabbing at her red-rimmed eyes with a tissue. “Regardless of what’s happened between you and Blake … recently, I know you want to see him. I think everyone deserves closure. I couldn’t live with myself if I deprived you of that.”

  Her words were like a sucker punch. Closure?

  “He’s on shaky ground right now, Lauren. But he is stable and Dr. Wheeler said he could tolerate a visitor or two for a few minutes.”

  The lump in her throat kept her from speaking. She dared to look Mrs. Tully in the eye. Please, please.

  “Five minutes. That’s it.”

  Lauren steepled her fingers and pressed them to her lips. “Thank you.”

  Shannon squeezed her arm. “Come on, I’ll take you in.”

  Lauren followed her to the door of Blake’s room, trembling all over. Her mouth was dry and her chest tightened. She gripped the door frame and whispered a prayer for strength. All her hours of rotations in the hospital and working for Dr. Putnam hadn’t prepared her for this. She drew a deep breath and stepped inside.

  Her eyes traveled to the bed, absorbing each detail. He was lying on his back, with a gauze bandage wrapped around his forehead. Blood had soaked through the gauze, leaving a bright red stain near his temple. Gnarly purple bruises marred the skin around his eyes. The cervical collar that stabilized his neck made Lauren choke back a sob.

  “D-does he have a spine injury?”

  Shannon’s brow furrowed while she studied the monitors that beeped a steady rhythm. “We’re still uncertain about his right leg. He wasn’t conscious long enough for them to test all of the extremities. They left the collar on for now, probably in case they need to transport him.”

  “Where?”

  The paramedics had cut open his clothes and the remaining fragments of his white t-shirt crisscrossed his exposed chest like an angry gash. Lauren smoothed the bed sheet across his torso, tucking it between his arm and his body. The haunting push and pull of the ventilator unnerved her. The ghastly tube taped to his mouth sent an ominous shiver down her spine. Handsome, confident, selfless Blake … tethered to life by a complex series of tubes and machines. How can this be?