by Tori Scott
She shook her head and looked away, feeling like an intruder even though she was on her own property. Their fight was none of her business. But it was so hard to listen to. After the way she’d fought her father at every turn, it was hard to witness someone else’s family struggles.
When the door to the Thurman's Tahoe slammed and the engine turned over with a roar, Sandy jumped to her feet and looked for Melanie. Oh God, there she was, barreling down the sidewalk toward home, head lowered as she concentrated on her pedals. Sandy screamed as the truck lurched backward down the driveway.
***
She’d never forget the sounds. The squeal of tires, the thud of impact, the harsh clang of her daughter’s tricycle as it landed in the street. Melanie's scream of terror, the haunting silence that followed. Her next-door neighbor's booted feet flying down the driveway, curses blistering the air. Her own scream, and the quieter footfalls of her bare feet on the grass. The teenaged driver alternately crying, praying, and swearing.
Those snippets of time would be imbedded in Sandy’s memory forever.
Hunter reached Melanie first. He checked her pulse, his big hand dwarfing Mel’s tiny arm. When he glanced over his shoulder and saw Sandy, he tried to smile reassuringly, but his brow was etched with worry. "Her pulse is weak, but it's there. Her breathing's shallow." The words, spoken quietly, gave her hope. Her daughter was still alive. He had just begun to check her pupils when Sandy yanked him back.
"Get out of my way!" She grabbed his shirt and pulled as she dropped to her knees beside her daughter. "Melanie, can you hear me? Baby, Mommy's here. You're going to be okay. You...you have to be." A sob echoed in the silence, but it was her own. There was no response from Mel.
This was her worst nightmare. As hard as she’d tried to keep her daughter safe, she'd failed. Why hadn't she made her wear a helmet? Why hadn't she taken Melanie to the park to ride, away from traffic? Why had she let her brother Ryan give her daughter the damned tricycle in the first place?
Sandy checked carefully for signs of bleeding and broken bones. Melanie’s leg was obviously broken, twisted at an odd angle. As a child care director, Sandy received basic first aid training every year, but at this moment she wished she knew more about emergency care. Melanie was breathing, her heart was beating, but she was so still and quiet.
How could she live without her baby girl? No, quit thinking like that. She'll be okay. God wouldn’t let her baby die.
"Jason, call 911. Then get me a couple of blankets. Now!" For once Jason did as he was told without argument. Hunter turned back to Sandy. Other than the tears flowing down her cheeks and onto her daughter's pink and white striped T-shirt, she was efficient and extremely gentle as she checked her daughter over. Once again, he knelt beside her, ignoring the neighbors who were beginning to fill the street.
"I am so sorry. I had no idea he had my car keys. I would never let him have them when he was so angry..." He faltered at the anguish in her eyes.
"Please, just leave us alone. You’ve done quite enough already." Her voice caught, tears choking her words to a pleading whisper.
Knowing there was nothing else he could do for the moment, Hunter retreated and watched as she stroked her daughter's face.
Sirens wailed in the distance as Jason ran out of the house with the blankets in his arms and tears dripping off his chin. He handed them to Hunter, then knelt on the other side of Sandy. His voice quavered as he said, "She's going to be all right, isn't she? I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I didn't see her."
Sandy didn’t seem to hear his words or notice the distraught boy beside her. Her attention was completely focused on her daughter. As angry as Hunter was with his son for his irresponsible act, he also felt sorry for him. He carefully covered the little girl with a blanket, then laid a hand on Jason's arm to stem the flow of words. "Son, leave her alone. She can’t deal with you right now."
Jason nodded glumly and moved back, sinking to the curb with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees, shoulders shaking with his sobs. Hunter dropped to the grass beside him, torn between wanting to shake him senseless and wanting to cuddle him as he had when he was little.
The arrival of the ambulance, followed by the police, pushed Hunter and Jason further into the background as the paramedics began their initial assessment and Sandy listened carefully to everything they said--to her, to each other, and to the hospital over the radio. "Ma'am?" one of the paramedics turned to Sandy. "Has she been conscious at all since the accident?"
“No," Sandy told her. "Not at all."
"Did she stop breathing at any point, even for a minute?"
When Sandy hesitated, Hunter spoke up. "I was the first one to get to her, and I checked for a pulse and then to see if she was breathing. She was."
"Okay, thanks." After more communication from the hospital, the paramedics began an IV, then secured Melanie to a backboard. They carefully lifted her into the ambulance and strapped her in, then invited Sandy to ride along to the hospital with them.
The officers tried to detain her with questions, but she waved them off and climbed into the back of the ambulance. The doors slammed, leaving Hunter and Jason to face the consequences.
***
Thirty minutes later, Hunter pushed through the glass doors of the emergency room, Jason on his heels. Antiseptic and floor cleaner, mixed with the coppery scent of blood, assaulted his senses as he strode to the admitting desk. A harried woman looked up from her computer and asked, "Can I help you?"
"My name's Hunter Thurman. I want to find out about Melanie Morrow's condition. She was brought in a few minutes ago." He glanced around the waiting room, looking for Sandy.
She typed the information into the computer. "The doctor's with her now. Are you her father?"
"No, a neighbor. How is she?" He needed to know. Right now.
"Well, since you're not family I really can't tell you much."
Hunter felt like his head was going to explode. He was used to instant obedience, instant access to whatever information he needed. Dealing with people rather than computers wasn’t one of his better skills. He took a deep breath to calm down. "Look, my son is the one who hit her." Hunter motioned toward Jason, who stood halfway across the room looking lost and miserable. He knew he sounded callous but didn’t take the time to make amends. "We need to know if she's going to be all right."
"I'm sorry.” She gave Jason a sympathetic look. “Let me go see what I can find out." As she disappeared down the hall, the outside doors swooshed open and two uniformed officers strolled in. One of them spotted Hunter and lifted a hand in greeting.
"How ya' doin' Hunter?" he asked as they shook hands. "I'm sorry about what happened. I got some of the info from the officers who took the call. How's the little girl?"
"We're trying to find out. I appreciate you coming down here, Bob. This is going to be hard enough, but I'm glad to have a friend on the police force right now."
Hunter turned around to look for his son. "Jason, come here," he called out, motioning for him to join them. "You remember Bob Watson, don't you son?"
Jason nodded and said, "Hi, Officer Watson."
Bob turned to Jason. "Boy, you and I just don't seem destined to meet under pleasant circumstances, do we? I was real sorry about your Mom. I know you miss her."
Hunter stood back while his friend talked to Jason and noted his son's pallor and hang-dog look. At least he wasn't sulking or copping an attitude, like he usually did.
Bob turned back to Hunter and gestured to his partner. "This is Jerry Wilkins. You want to go get a cup of coffee and fill me in on the details?"
"Sure. Just as soon as I get some info on Melanie’s condition, we can go to the cafeteria."
The woman reappeared and sat behind the desk before she spoke to Hunter. "Sir, Mrs. Morrow said to tell you it looks like Melanie will survive. She has a broken leg, multiple contusions and abrasions, and a severe concussion. She still hasn’t regained consciousness, but the
doctor thinks that’s temporary and related to the concussion."
Jason kept his eyes glued to the receptionist’s face as she spoke, and looked more and more miserable as she listed the injuries Melanie had suffered. Hunter placed a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed.
"Thank you very much for your help, ma’am. We'll be in the cafeteria if anyone needs us."
***
Sandy sat in a corner of the examining room, afraid to move or make any sound in case the doctor made her leave. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn't stand to see her baby hurt. When Melanie whimpered and cried, sounding just like she had as an infant, it sent chills up her spine.
Melanie hadn't fully regained consciousness. The doctor was dealing with the broken leg and, judging from the frown on his face as he studied the x-rays, didn't like what he saw
The sights and smells and sounds of the emergency room were all too familiar, and they made her sick to her stomach. She fought the nausea, not wanting to leave the room for any reason. She forced herself to concentrate on the details to take her mind off her stomach.
The gray floors were speckled with spots of black, matching a gray metal cabinet with a shiny black top that now held gleaming silver instruments--scissors, scalpels, tweezers. A large clock on the wall showed 6:56. Past time for Melanie's dinner.
Sandy’s husband had died in this very same emergency room at 7:21 pm, two years and two months earlier. A shudder went through her. No! It would not, could not happen again. Fate might play tricks, but it couldn't be that cruel.
She forced her thoughts away from that awful time. They immediately latched onto Hunter. What was the problem between him and his son? She knew teenagers had a tendency to be loud and obnoxious on occasion, but Jason went way beyond that. Something was wrong in that household.
"Mrs. Morrow?" the doctor said, waving a hand in front of her face. Apparently he had already said her name once.
"Yes, I'm sorry. Just spaced out for a minute there."
"That's okay." He smiled at her, kindness and patience reflected in his gaze. "We're going to move your daughter to the trauma ICU so the nurses can keep a close watch on her for the next few hours. This is a critical time for her, but I think she'll be just fine. As long as there are no major complications, she should wake up soon and will get more coherent before the night's over."
Sandy's shoulders sagged with relief. "I can stay with her, can't I? I can't leave her."
"Space is too limited for you to stay with her full-time, but you can visit for ten minutes every hour, then you can stay with her once we move her to a room. I've splinted her leg for now, but she'll need surgery. We don't want to do that while she has a concussion," the doctor said, "and her physician will want to look her over and make his own recommendations. If you'll just go find yourself a cup of coffee and give us about an hour, we'll get her settled and you can have your first visit. The nurse at the station outside can give you directions and some forms to fill out."
He was interrupted when an orderly pushed a gurney through the door, and he motioned her outside. Sandy walked out, straight into a hard, broad chest.
"Oomph," Hunter grunted as he staggered back a step. "Are you okay?" He stepped aside to allow the gurney to pass and watched solemnly as the orderly steered it to the elevators down the hall. "Aren't you going with them?" he asked as she stood and watched them take her daughter away.
"They won't let me go with her right now. They're taking her to ICU for observation." She broke down as more tears rolled down her face.
Without thinking about it, he pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried. She felt so small and vulnerable. He looked over her head at Jason, who seemed to bloom with anger right before his eyes. What was going through his head now? Not ten minutes ago he'd been sorrowful and repentant.
What the hell had changed in that amount of time? Hunter continued to stroke Sandy's back and murmur soothing words as he stared at his son. Jason cursed, then turned and left the emergency room, shoving through the main doors with enough force to bounce them against the brick walls. Hunter was torn between going after his son and staying there with Sandy. He pulled back a little to see how she was doing and she seemed to remember where she was and whose arms she was in.
She pushed him away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cry all over your shirt," she told him with a lift of her chin. "I'll be fine. I'm sure you have better things to do than stay here."
Hunter looked toward the doors Jason had stormed through. "I need to go see about my son, but I'll be back. Just as soon as he and I have a talk and I find out what’s going on with him."
"There's no need for you to come back. I told you, we'll be fine."
Her look dared him to argue, but he’d never been known to back down. "Look, I know you're upset, but you're also barefoot, and you'll need a change of clothes. Do you have a friend you can call who can pack a bag for you? I can bring it to you after I find Jason."
She started to argue, then looked down at her old cutoffs and t-shirt. She looked frustrated, but she nodded. "I'll call my friend Brenda."
"I'll be back soon. You can count on it." He brushed a thumb across her cheek to wipe away a stray tear, his touch meant only as comfort. Strange, but he was the one who felt comforted by the caress. He looked at the tear on his thumb, then wiped it away on his jeans.
Hunter left without looking back, afraid he would see the need in her eyes she wouldn't admit to and stay with her instead of finding his son. Jason had to be his first priority. He was just a kid, and Sandy was a grown woman. She could take care of herself. Couldn't she?
She seemed strong. He hoped she was. She'd need to be, to face the problems she now had because of his son.
He found Jason in the parking lot, leaning against the Tahoe Hunter had purchased only a month before. His stance shouted anger and resentment, his face set in a scowl.
"Well, it certainly looks as though you’ve been forgiven easily enough," Jason snarled. "I bet she hates my guts."
Hunter sighed. "No, I don't think she does. You want to tell me what your problem is? It's been ten months since your mom died. I've been home for six months, and you still act like it's my fault." He took a deep breath in an effort to calm down and lowered his voice. "Are you upset because I was trying to comfort Mrs. Morrow? For God's sake, you just put her kid in the hospital! Was I supposed to walk away and leave her to cry alone?"
"I don't care what you do, okay? Just as long as you leave me alone!" Jason turned his back to his father and tried to yank open the car door, which was locked. "You don't care about me or that kid in there. You're just interested in banging her mom."
Hunter grabbed Jason's arm and spun him around. He fell back against the car. "I've never hit you in anger before, but I'm tempted to make an exception to that. Let me tell you how things are going to be from here on out. You're grounded until I say you're not. You won't be driving, because if the police don't suspend your license, I will."
Jason’s face paled, then turned red with suppressed fury.
"You only have a few weeks until summer break. I'll pick you up at school every day, and you'll spend your afternoons doing whatever needs to be done at the Morrows’ house. You'll go to counseling again, and this time you will talk about what's bothering you. Do I make myself clear?"
Jason glared at his father, but he nodded. "Are you through? Can we go home now?"
"I'm just getting started, but the rest will have to wait. Get in."
###
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