The Choice

by Robert Whitlow

  “Get over here,” he said to Sandy. “Put the tape around his hands and feet.”

  Sandy picked up the tape and knelt on the floor.

  “Feet first,” Emilio ordered.

  Sandy wrapped the tape around Jeremy’s ankles several times while Emilio watched.

  “Now his hands,” Emilio said. “Behind his back.”

  When Sandy picked up Jeremy’s right wrist, he cried out. It was tilted oddly to the left. Tears rushed into Sandy’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Shut up,” Emilio said.

  Sandy gently held Jeremy’s wrist in her hand and brought his other hand closer. She wrapped the tape once around his wrists, trying not to put too much pressure on the bones. As soon as she brought the tape around once, Emilio pushed her away. He made two more quick rounds with the tape, each one causing Jeremy to cry out in pain. Emilio stood up, leaving Jeremy lying on his stomach with his face pressed against the floor. Emilio didn’t put any tape over Jeremy’s mouth.

  “Get Maria and Rosalita and bring them here,” Emilio said.

  “Can I take the tape off their feet?”

  “Yes.”

  Sandy returned to the bedroom. She knelt in front of Maria and was about to ask another question about the gun when she saw Emilio out of the corner of her eye watching from the doorway. Sandy’s hands shook as she ripped the tape away from Maria’s ankles. Maria stood up. Her hands were bound behind her. Sandy moved to Rosalita and freed her feet.

  “Do you know who I am?” Emilio asked while Sandy was still kneeling in front of Rosalita.

  “You’re Emilio.”

  They returned to the front room.

  “Lie down on your stomachs,” he commanded Maria and Rosalita.

  The two women lay with their faces to the floor.

  “Tape their feet,” Emilio said to Sandy. “Make sure it’s tight.”

  Emilio watched as Sandy bound the women.

  “We have a big problem here,” Emilio said as Sandy finished with Rosalita. “I came back to town to get my money and found out that people were asking bad questions about me and Maria. Is that your fault?”

  Sandy remembered her conversation with Mimi Randolph.

  “Yes,” she said, then pointed at Jeremy and Dusty. “They had nothing to do with it.”

  “You brought them here, didn’t you?”

  “But they don’t know what you did to Maria.”

  Emilio hit Sandy in the face with the back of his hand. She staggered sideways. Emilio then glared down at Maria, who turned her face away from him toward the wall.

  The blow stung, but Sandy felt strangely calm. Emilio stared at her for a moment, then gestured toward Jeremy.

  “I can hit you, but it will hurt you more if I do something to this one, right?” he asked.

  Sandy didn’t respond.

  “What about this one?” Emilio stepped over and nudged Dusty with his toe but kept his eyes on Sandy’s face.

  Dusty’s face was turned away from them. There was a nasty red welt forming on the side of his face where he’d been kicked.

  “I care about both of them,” Sandy said. “But they can’t help with your big problem. I can.”

  Startled, Emilio looked at her. “What can you do for me?”

  “I don’t want Rosalita or Maria to hear. Can we go into the kitchen and talk?”

  Emilio eyed her suspiciously.

  “You can still see them from there,” Sandy said.

  Emilio waved his gun across the bodies on the floor.

  “Nobody move. I’ll be watching.”

  Sandy moved slowly into the kitchen. The refrigerator was on the left. It was decorated with school artwork by Rosalita’s daughters. Sandy moved past the refrigerator and stopped. It wasn’t a large unit, but Emilio was directly in front of her, and she couldn’t sneak a look on top.

  “I can help you get what you want and then get away without getting caught by the police,” Sandy said. “Are you here for the money Rosalita’s husband owes you?”

  “Yes,” Emilio answered in a low voice. “Rosalita has hidden it. I’m going to the bedroom where her children are. When they scream, she’ll tell me where it is. And I’m not going to leave Maria here. She’s coming with me. I told her I would take care of her, but Rosalita filled her head with lies.”

  “Let me talk to Rosalita about the money. And Maria can go with you, but she and Rosalita can’t know what you’re going to do or where you’re going to go. Here is my idea—”

  Sandy stopped and glanced past Emilio into the area where Jeremy and Dusty lay on the floor.

  “Don’t move!” she called out in English.

  Emilio spun around. When he did, Sandy ran her hand across the top of the refrigerator. She felt the cool metal of a gun and grabbed it. She pulled back the hammer and held the weapon out in front of her with both hands.

  “It’s okay,” Emilio said as he turned back toward Sandy. “They’re still tied up—”

  He saw the gun in Sandy’s hands, and his jaw dropped open. Sandy closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. She didn’t know if she would hear a dull click of the hammer hitting an empty magazine or the roar of exploding gunpowder from a bullet. The sound of the gun discharging in the enclosed area was deafening. When Sandy opened her eyes, Emilio had stepped back and was leaning against the kitchen counter. Sandy rushed past him toward the door. If she could make it outside, she could run for help.

  “Stop!” Emilio commanded.

  Sandy tripped over Dusty’s legs and fell to the floor. The gun slid out of her hand and down the hallway toward the bedroom.

  “Go,” Jeremy said through clenched teeth. “Get out.”

  Sandy scrambled to her feet and faced Emilio, who was standing at the edge of the kitchen with his gun pointed directly at her. The calm Sandy felt earlier returned. Instead of running, she waited for Emilio to pull the trigger. Then she watched in horror as Emilio’s hand moved away from her and downward toward Dusty’s upper body.

  “No!” she cried out in English. “He’s my son!”

  Sandy threw herself across Dusty as the gun went off.

  Everything went black.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Sandy felt suspended in space, surrounded by a wonderful fragrance, a heady aroma that permeated the atmosphere. The scent was vaguely familiar. Somewhere, at some unknown time, she’d experienced a hint of the delightful odor before. Then, into the darkness a shape appeared. The shape moved gracefully out of the shadows. A face and form came into focus. The darkness turned to light.

  It was the old woman from the gas station.

  Sandy knew her immediately, but there was something different about her. The woman’s entire being was wreathed in a glorious radiance. Her blue eyes remained bright; her snow-white hair was still pulled back in a bun. But the wrinkles of Sandy’s teenage memory were gone. And Sandy knew she had been wrong.

  The woman wasn’t old; she was ageless. She didn’t live on earth; she came from heaven. Words emanated from the angel and traveled straight to Sandy’s heart.

  “You chose well.”

  And in an instant a limitless flow of divine affirmation washed over Sandy. Enveloped in pure love, she felt herself being lifted up and carried away. She’d chosen well. Not once, not twice, but at every critical turning point when self-sacrifice required her to lay down her life for her sons. She opened her arms wide.

  She’d followed the path of her highest destiny.

  Click. Silence. Click.

  The sound seemed to come from a long way off. Sandy opened her eyes a fraction of an inch, then closed them without seeing anything. She longed for the light, the fragrance of glory, but the blackness returned.

  Click. Silence. Click.

  This time the sound was more distinct. Sandy waited for it to repeat but heard nothing. She moaned slightly and opened her eyes. The scene was fuzzy. She closed her eyes again. Someone touched her hand.

  “San
dy,” a faraway voice said.

  She opened her eyes. A male face swam into view. It was Ben.

  “What?” she managed.

  “Don’t try to talk. You’re in the hospital.”

  Sandy returned to the darkness. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there. She heard other sounds. Voices came and went. She opened her eyes again. The lights in the room were dimmed. It was night. She slowly moved her head to the side. Ben was leaned back in a recliner beside her bed. His eyes were closed.

  And Sandy remembered everything.

  “Ben,” she managed in a hoarse voice.

  Her brother turned his head. He jumped out of the chair and came to her side.

  “The surgeon said you’d be coming around soon.”

  “Dusty?” she asked. “Is he—”

  Ben took a deep breath. Fear came into Sandy’s face.

  “It was touch-and-go. They lost him on the operating table, but he came back. He’s in intensive care now. They wanted to transport him to Atlanta, but it was too risky.”

  “Dusty died in the operating room?” Sandy asked weakly.

  “Yes.”

  “But he’s alive.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m just glad Dr. Molitor was on call. He returned a few months ago from a tour of duty in Afghanistan, where he treated more gunshot wounds in a year than some surgeons see in a lifetime.”

  Sandy closed her eyes for a moment of thankfulness.

  “And Jeremy. Where is—”

  “They were able to set his wrist without surgery. He’s on the orthopedic floor and should go home tomorrow.”

  “He’s okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Her boys had survived. Two tears forced their way past Sandy’s eyelids and ran down the sides of her face. She felt a soft cloth against her cheek. Ben was wiping away her tears with his handkerchief. Sandy could see that her brother’s eyes were red too.

  “I was scared—” Sandy started.

  “Of course you were.”

  “But then I felt strangely calm. I knew what I had to do.” She paused. “Then I saw her.”

  “Who?”

  Sandy closed her eyes and didn’t answer. She longed to return to the place of fragrant light, but all she could smell was a hint of antiseptic. She took a deep breath. Pain shot through her chest. The thought of paralysis flashed through her mind. Sandy wiggled her fingers and toes. They seemed to work fine.

  “What happened to me?” she asked.

  “You were shot in the abdomen. The bullet sliced through you into Dusty and stopped within a fraction of an inch of Dusty’s heart. If you hadn’t shielded him, he’d be dead.”

  Sandy could see tubes coming out from beneath the covers near her hips. The clicking noise she’d heard was coming from the device attached to a bag of IV solution.

  “You’re stitched and bandaged up,” Ben continued. “The surgeon told me the bullet destroyed one of your ovaries.”

  “An ovary?”

  “I know,” Ben said and managed a slight smile. “If you had to lose an organ, I guess that’s one to pick at your age. There was quite a bit of internal bleeding, but no extensive damage to your colon or small intestine. The doctor cleaned you out, and you’re getting a heavy dose of antibiotics.”

  “What about Maria and Rosalita and the children?”

  “They’re fine. The man you shot also had surgery.”

  “I thought I missed him.”

  Ben shook his head. “According to the police, you hit him in the thigh. The bullet severed an artery, and he passed out on the floor right after he shot you. The sound of the gunshots brought police and emergency medical crews to the trailer park within a few minutes.” Ben paused. “There’s something to be said for living in a town with no traffic jams and a hospital that’s two miles away.”

  Sandy’s gratitude went much higher and deeper.

  “Mama and Linda are on their way from Florida and should be here in the morning,” Ben continued. “I’m going home in a few minutes, and Betsy is going to spend the rest of the night with you.”

  “She doesn’t need to do that.”

  “Do you think I could stop her?”

  “No. Does Jessica know?”

  Ben patted Sandy on the arm.

  “Yes, along with several million other people. The triple shooting at a trailer park in Rutland was the lead story on the eleven o’clock news on every TV station in Atlanta. Media trucks are still in the hospital parking lot. I guess they want to file follow-up reports about my heroic big sister in the morning.”

  “I’m no hero.”

  “That’s right. You’re something better.” Ben took Sandy’s hand in his and looked into her eyes. “You’re a mother.”

  By noon the next day, Sandy’s hospital room was a swirl of activity. Local florists brought in so many flowers that Sandy asked the charge nurse to start sending them to the rooms of patients who didn’t have any. Sandy’s favorite card was one designed and signed by every member of the cheerleading squad. The most extravagant floral arrangement was from John Bestwick. Sandy had it positioned so she could look at it whenever she liked. One of the first things she wanted to do when her appetite returned was let the basketball coach take her out for a steak dinner. The arrival of Sandy’s mother and her aunt Linda elevated the hospital’s already high level of care.

  Sandy was propped up in bed eating a few bites of soup broth when the door opened, and Jeremy, a white cast on his right wrist and lower arm, came into the room. Directly behind him was Leanne. As soon as Leanne saw Sandy, she burst into tears.

  “I wasn’t going to do that,” she said, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands.

  Jeremy came to the bed, leaned over, and kissed Sandy on the forehead.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry about your wrist.”

  “The broken wrist probably saved my life.”

  Sandy’s mother and Linda were standing by a chair in the corner of the room.

  “This is Jeremy and his wife, Leanne,” Sandy said to the two women. “The last time you saw Jeremy, he weighed four pounds, ten ounces. He’s gotten a lot bigger and stronger since then.”

  Sandy watched as her mother and Linda met Jeremy and Leanne. Her heart overflowed.

  The morning of her third day in the hospital, Sandy awoke to shafts of sunlight streaming into her room. She was drinking a cup of weak coffee when Jeremy came in to see her.

  “Do you want to go for a ride in the wheelchair?” he asked.

  “To the baby nursery?” she asked with a smile.

  They’d made several trips to inspect the latest crop of newborns.

  “No, but your older baby can have visitors.”

  “Let’s go,” Sandy replied immediately.

  Although Sandy was able to get out of bed and go to the bathroom, she wasn’t walking more than a few feet on her own. She put on her robe and brushed her hair.

  “I look terrible,” she said as she came out of the bathroom.

  Jeremy held the wheelchair steady for her to sit down.

  “That’s not what I think. I can’t believe I have a mother as young and attractive as you are.”

  “That’s sweet. Even if it’s not true.”

  “Don’t argue with me. I’m a lawyer.”

  As Jeremy wheeled Sandy down the hallway, virtually every member of the hospital staff paused to greet her. She was getting used to the attention but longed to return to anonymity.

  “Dusty’s father and sister ate supper with Leanne and me last night,” Jeremy said. “They enjoyed their time with you.”

  “It was fun answering their questions,” Sandy replied. “Lydia is a sharp young woman.”

  “She and Leanne really clicked. I think they’re going to become friends even though we’re not related. To me, it’s confirmation that you made the right decision to separate Dusty and me. How else would we connect with these people?”

  “You really think so?”
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  Jeremy patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t second-guess yourself now. It won’t change anything.”

  Even now, Sandy didn’t understand everything, but she could still be grateful. They reached the elevator, and Jeremy pushed the button.

  “I’m nervous,” Sandy said. “I feel like this is the first time Dusty and I are going to talk. How alert is he?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The third floor housed the cardiac and cancer patients. Rutland had few serious trauma cases, but when they occurred, the severely injured people were placed on the third floor where the staff-to-patient ratio was higher. Jeremy pushed the wheelchair to a locked double door and pressed a button. A woman’s voice asked who they were.

  “Jeremy Lane with Sandra Lincoln,” he said. “We’re here to see Dusty Abernathy.”

  A buzzer sounded, and the door opened on its own.

  “No one calls me Sandra except my mother when she’s telling me what to do in the kitchen at Christmastime.”

  “Okay, I promise not to call you Sandra if you can fit my family into your schedule this Christmas in Charleston.”

  “Did you clear that with your mother?”

  “It was her idea.”

  “But I haven’t written her a letter yet.”

  “You can tell her in person.”

  They passed several rooms. Sandy clasped her hands together in her lap.

  “Here we are,” Jeremy said when they reached a room on the left. The door was closed. “This is a bit tricky for a one-handed man.”

  Jeremy pulled the heavy wooden door open with his left hand and then held it with his right foot while he pushed the wheelchair ahead. Sandy leaned forward as they entered the room.

  Dusty was sitting up in bed with his eyes closed. The first thing Sandy noticed was the deep bruise on the side of his head where Emilio had kicked him. There were multiple tubes coiled around him. Dusty turned his head toward them and opened his eyes.

  “Come in,” he said in a surprisingly strong voice.

  Jeremy rolled Sandy to the side of the bed. She didn’t trust herself to speak. All she could do was stare at Dusty and marvel that he’d died and come back to life.