“No one, I swear—only Leah!” Samantha’s mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Leah must have called her mother yesterday.
That little traitor. And Momma must have gotten Randy to drive all night and lie in wait for them to leave Calmer. Was Ben’s dad in on this too?
Ben’s face clouded with renewed fury. “I was afraid of something like this. As soon as I found out you called your stupid friend, I knew something would go wrong with our plan. Why did you sabotage our chances, Sammie?”
His uncharacteristic use of her nickname barely registered with her. Fresh tears of rage in his eyes pirated her attention. She jerked in her seat, startled by the clap of thunder and the jagged bolt of lightning that tore through the gunmetal sky, laying them open for another downpour of driving rain.
“They’re not going to win this time—not gonna stop us—I’m damned if I’m gonna let them…” Ben’s expression was resolute.
The Thunderbird sped faster.
Samantha’s throat turned dry as dust, making it difficult to breathe as she lost herself to rising panic. The highway shone slick with the accumulation of water. The wipers, even on high speed, couldn’t keep up with the torrential downpour. Ben swore again. An odd keening filled her ears. She no longer recognized the sound of her own crying.
They couldn’t shake Randy. It seemed futile to continue. But Ben gave the car even more gas, virtually standing on the pedal as he leaned forward. They passed a transport truck. The driver blared his horn at them.
“Stop! Stop now!” she shrieked, one hand gripping the armrest while the other one shielded her eyes. She was too terrified to look.
Ben ignored her screams and kept on cursing. They raced at breakneck speed.
The second they lost traction, Samantha knew. It felt as if the car had gotten caught up in something underneath and Ben couldn’t make the steering wheel answer. The Thunderbird hit a huge patch of rainwater that had pooled and stretched over the pavement. Samantha’s eyes flew open—the slow, sickening sensation of losing all control.
The vehicle hydroplaned, skidding across the saturated surface on a diagonal angle. Time seemed to lay eerily still for a moment, then everything passed before her eyes in slow motion.
After the convertible left the highway and flew over the embankment, the last sounds to register in Samantha’s brain were the grisly crunch of breaking bone and the haunting Metallica song, “Sad But True,” pouring out of the car stereo.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
She is alone. Everything around her is hazy, sepia warm and oddly luminous. She is swaying slowly back and forth on the wooden backyard swing her father had built for her and Veronica. She is in Calmer.
She loves the drape of hot sunshine on her naked shoulders while she swings, suspended above the grass, her thin, sun-browned legs dangling. She sees her skinned knees, the bright, pink halter top she is wearing, the orange flip flops on her small feet. A delicious scent wafts under her nose and her mouth waters. Smells like Nana’s apple crisp, she thinks. With cinnamon and brown sugar, and a big scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side.
Her mother’s face comes into view. She smiles at Samantha, but her smile is too wide. She is acting funny. Now she waves goodbye and moves away.
Where are you going, Momma?
I want to go and be with Nana, she says, laughing.
No, Momma, please don’t go. What will I do? I’m scared. Wait for me…I try to form the words to bring her back, but I can’t push them out of my mouth. I try to jump off the swing, but I can’t do that either. I look down and see one of the ropes of the swing coiled tightly around my wrist. The rough hemp fibres cut into my soft, tender flesh, and I cry. Blazing sun burns my shoulders now and my entire head throbs as if it is clamped in a vice.
“Momma—”
“I’m here, honey. Momma’s here.”
She opens her eyes and sees her mother’s anxious face. She didn’t leave after all. Tears build behind Samantha’s eyelids. “My head hurts, Momma…” A heavy wave of nausea rolls over her and the pain in her forehead is close to unbearable. She closes her eyes again. So tired…need to sleep…
She is alone again, trapped in a deep hole. Cold, dark water swirls around her. She struggles to keep her head above its inky surface. Where am I? she asks. Where are you, Ben? She hears a soothing voice. Ben? No, it isn’t Ben. It sounds like her father, but she isn’t sure. Daddy…
The scene transforms and she is flying, her body weightless. But she is going too fast. Terror floods through her, and she falls. I’m going to die, she realizes. She hears herself scream. I don’t want to die, she cries, as jagged, black rocks zoom up to meet her…
“Samantha.”
The blurred shape of a strange woman’s face swims into view. Her hand holds Samantha’s forehead, helping her while she retches into a shiny metal pan. Sobbing, she hears her own voice calling for her mother.
“Your mom stepped out for a coffee, Samantha. She’ll be back soon.”
She leans back on the pillows and opens her eyes again, long enough to see the nurse’s young face. Her eyes are soft brown.
“Where’s Ben?”
“Don’t you worry about a thing, Samantha.”
“Is Ben here? Ben Swift…he was in the car with me.”
The young nurse tut-tuts. She looks away, her expression sober, inscrutable.
Sharp talons of panic clutch at Samantha’s throat. “Where’s Ben?” she demands. “Please—”
“Everything will be all right, dear. You’re in the hospital and you’re going to be fine. No need to worry about it now. Try to relax until your mom gets back.”
Samantha blinks, struggling to clear her vision. She is too afraid to press any further. Through tears, she looks down for the first time at the thick white bandages winding around the full length of her right arm, from wrist to shoulder. She wonders why they are there. Fear rises in her throat again making it hard to breathe.
“What happened to me? What happened to Ben?” she whispers. Her head is pounding like a drumbeat, twinned with the thudding of her heart. But before she hears an answer, she feels the prick of a needle in her shoulder and slips under again into deep sleep.
***
Samantha stared through the tall, narrow window of the hospital room with blank eyes. Since the doctor in Corner Brook had deemed her over the worst of the concussion she’d sustained and prescribed pain medication for her injuries, she couldn’t stop reliving the accident. It played over and over in her mind like a recurring nightmare.
Except it wasn’t a nightmare. It was all too real.
And then, when at last she’d been allowed to see Ben yesterday, she feared she would lose her grip on her sanity altogether.
She could hear her mother talking in hushed tones to Aunt Donna next to her bed. Yet Samantha, who hadn’t seen her aunt from Halifax in almost a year, couldn’t muster enough interest to turn her head.
“…so when the EEG came back okay and her cast was set, they said there was no reason she couldn’t go home. I’d gotten a ride with Mr. Swift to Corner Brook and we brought her back to St. John’s…”
Samantha lay still, half-hearing the monotone of her mother’s voice. She wished they would go away and leave her alone.
“Where the…the boy had already been taken?”
“That’s right,” Darlene said. “By Medivac helicopter because of the severity of his injuries. After Corner Brook finally managed to stabilize him, they thought Health Sciences would be better equipped to handle the rest. Sammie demanded to come straightaway and visit him here, even before we went home.”
Aunt Donna clucked her tongue. “And that’s when she had the breakdown. Poor little thing must be crushed.”
Darlene shook her head. “I had a long talk with Mr. Swift during that car ride. Tragic, the way Ben lost his mother. And now this—”
“I can’t conceive of it, how awful it must have been for him to find her that way. Poor kid. Has Sammie e
aten today?”
“Wouldn’t look at her breakfast or lunch tray. She’s devastated. Having nausea and headaches from the concussion too, so that could be part of it. I should ask the nurse if the sedative could be affecting her appetite as well.”
Darlene sat down on the chair next to the bed in Samantha’s field of vision. “Sammie, I brought your old glasses from your old prescription. Your good ones got smashed in the, uh, accident. I know they aren’t that good, but they’ll have to do until you get a new pair.” She laid them on the bed stand, then straightened the linen under her daughter’s arm cast. With a trembling hand, she touched her cheek. “Can I get you anything?”
Samantha turned her head. Her mother’s eyes were dark hollows in her face and her hair badly needed washing. “No,” she said, wondering, but not caring, if she would ever feel hungry again.
“They’re going to put the IV back in if you don’t eat something soon, honey. What if we got you some ice cream?” she coaxed. “Don’t you want to come home?”
Samantha turned her face back into the pillow.
“Donna, why don’t you go on home with Veronica?” Darlene suggested. “You could use a nap. Your flight was so late last night.”
“Perhaps I should. Veronica could probably do with some company too. When does Jack’s flight get in?”
“In two hours, I believe. Maybe seeing her father will snap Sammie out of this.”
Daddy. Coming to see me. But for how long, Daddy?
Her aunt leaned in. She smelled of perfume and shampoo. Samantha felt the brush of soft lips on her cheek. She heard her murmured good-bye, then the staccato click of her heels on the floor leaving the room and fading down the corridor.
Samantha remembered Officer Randy. Spurred by anger, she summoned her strength to speak. “You made him come after us, Momma, didn’t you? Your boyfriend. If you’d never told him about us, maybe none of this would’ve happened!”
Darlene’s face clouded. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been beating myself up since I found out about the damn car chase. If I’d known—anyhow, I understand his part in all of this is now under investigation. Besides the fact he was out of his jurisdiction.”
“If Leah had kept her mouth shut, it wouldn’t have happened either. She ratted us out!”
“Don’t be angry with Leah. She was worried, just as we all were. You ran away from me, Sam!”
“Well, I guess you’re all happy now, seeing that Ben is no longer a threat…” Her voice trembled and cracked. Unable to contain her heartbreak any longer, she exploded into deep sobs that racked her frame under the covers.
Darlene moved closer. “You’re wrong, honey. I was half crazy with worry, wondering where you disappeared. Then Veronica found out Ben was missing too and had taken the car, so we figured you two were together. Shortly after that, Leah phoned.” Darlene clutched Samantha’s hand sticking out of the cast. “You’re only sixteen, baby. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you. Veronica was shook up by all of this too, you know.”
Samantha wiped her eyes with her good arm and sniffed. “Yeah. I just bet she was.”
“I swear it’s true. She’s been crying off and on since the accident.”
“Tears for her baby’s father, more likely.”
“No,” Darlene said. “Her tears are for you, Sam.”
They heard a light knock on the open door to her room. It was Mr. Swift.
“May I come in?”
Darlene hesitated, then nodded.
He stood inside the doorway, pale and haggard, hands in his pockets. “Samantha. How are you, dear?”
“As well as can be expected,” Darlene answered for her. “Considering the circumstances.”
Mr. Swift nodded. Clearing his throat with a nervous cough, he looked at a spot on the floor. “I’ve made a decision. As soon as Ben is mobile enough to fly, I’m taking him to a facility in Halifax. Most of my family lives there, and I’m relocating to look for a better job. My boy needs lots of therapy, both physio for his injuries and long-overdue treatment for his depression. He tried so hard to hide the hell he was going through from everybody. Stupid me thought time would be enough to heal his pain.” He paused, then raised his gaze to meet Samantha’s. “If you’re up to it sometime today, would you be able to pay Ben another visit?”
Again, Darlene answered before she could. “He told her he didn’t want to see her. And I believe it’s for the best.”
“He’s had a change of heart. Please. He needs to say something to you before you are discharged.”
Samantha said nothing. Tears welled up again, unbidden, as she remembered how Ben had refused to talk to her—told her to go away, to get out of his room. You’re better off forgetting you ever knew me, he’d said, before closing his eyes again and shutting her out.
“She’ll think about it,” Darlene said with a sigh, readjusting the covers on her daughter’s bed.
“Thanks. I’m so sorry all this happened. That goes for Veronica’s…situation too. And I meant what I said before, Mrs. Cross. I promise you he will own up to his responsibilities.” Ben’s father jammed his hands back in his pockets, then left as quickly as he came.
“You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to,” her mother said. “How about I go down to the cafeteria and find you something to eat, something light to get your appetite back? How’s that sound?”
Samantha nodded, only to get rid of her for a while. After Darlene left, she carefully got out of bed, wincing at the pain that seemed to throb through every part of her body, but especially her head. Ignoring it as best she could, she cloaked her robe around her shoulders with her good arm, put on her old glasses, and inched down the corridor to Ben’s room before she lost her nerve.
When she walked in, she thought he was asleep. She looked at his closed eyes, his bruised cheeks. The bloodstained bandage that had been wrapped around his head yesterday afternoon had been removed. Black stitches tracked across his forehead in an ugly arc, and several tubes sprouted from his arm, attached to the IV pole next to him. A monitor blinked, tracking his vital signs. To her untrained eye, his injuries seemed extensive, and made her stomach clench again with queasiness. On her previous visit, she hadn’t see his casts; the sheet covering him had hidden them from view. But now, she shuddered to see he’d fared much, much worse than she had. She tried to muffle the cry that sprung from within her and escaped her lips, but it shattered the silence of the room.
Ben’s eyes sprang open. He turned his head and saw her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep. I think all the drugs I’m on are making me dizzy.” He looked at her closely before he managed a weak half-smile. “Your arm is the only thing that got broken? I’m glad. I mean, I’m not glad—”
“I know what you meant. Broken arm and a concussion.”
“I totalled the old man’s car too.”
“There’ll be other cars. He could have lost much more.” Samantha lowered herself down gingerly in the chair beside his bed. “What exactly are your injuries?”
“Broken pelvis. Broken thighbone. Four fractured ribs. Ruptured spleen, which they removed. One doozy of a concussion where my head got clocked. Old man said I was in shock when the paramedics got to us, and you were out cold. Guess we’re lucky to be alive.”
“You’re leaving Newfoundland.”
“About that.” Ben looked at her, his eyes glassy. “That’s what the old man wants. I agreed at first, but now that I’m thinking more clearly, I want to stay—with you. I mean, he could still go and I can live with Aunt Valerie, go to MUN or trade school when I’m healed, and we wouldn’t have to stop seeing each other.”
Samantha remained silent.
“And if Veronica keeps her baby, I will work in my spare time to help support it. But you’re the one I love, Samantha.” He tried to straighten himself up in the bed, but it was futile. He flinched from the pain. “I’m
sorry. You’ll never know how sorry I am I did this to you. To us. I didn’t mean any of what I said yesterday, I was really out of it. I mean, yes, you probably are better off without me, but I love you and I think I always will. Let me make it up to you. My sweet, beautiful Samantha.”
“I’m sorry too,” she said, her words filled with sadness. She cleared her throat and inhaled sharply, hoping she got the words right. “I think you should stick with your father’s plan, Ben. He’s the one you need right now to heal, not me and your aunt.”
“Samantha, wait—”
She pressed on. “It sounds like the best arrangement for you is to go with him to Halifax and get the help he’s offering. Then one day, you may return to St. John’s, and—who knows—maybe we can pick up from there. When the timing is better. And when you’re—better.”
Ben stared at her, like her words had stunned him. “But that isn’t what I want. I need you. Now. We need each other. Why are you saying these things?” His face crumpled.
Samantha didn’t trust her voice to answer or to say anything more.
Ben’s expression closed in. He turned his head away from her and stared at the ceiling.
She knew she had hurt him. She tried to swallow around the ball of grief in her throat, but she didn’t move. For a long while she waited, watching until his lids finally grew heavy and his eyes drifted closed once again, his breathing slipping into the even rhythm of sleep, waiting until then and only then to let her silent tears flow and soak her face. She watched the rise and fall of his chest for a long time after the nurse came to check on his IV, not realizing she too had fallen asleep in the chair beside him.
The residue of a tattered dream, elusive and ephemeral, where she and Ben held hands and laughed together, still clung to her consciousness when she woke with a start. During her nap, Ben’s father had arrived. On the other side of the bed, he leaned back in a chair and dozed, his face appearing softer and younger in repose.
Calmer Girls Page 23
