Need You Now

Chapter Twenty




Darlene pulled into Layla’s driveway as far as she could, but too many vehicles blocked her way. She had to park behind two television vans near the gate. Outside her car, she hurried down the cobblestones and pushed her way through a media frenzy until she saw paramedics down in the pasture. Her heart pounded as she tried to move in that direction. A sheriff grabbed her arm.

“Ma’am, you can’t go out there.”

Darlene shook loose of his hold. “What’s wrong? Is that Layla? Is she hurt?”

The tall man about her age pushed back his sheriff’s hat. “Are you family?”

“No, but . . . I’m her . . . I’m her best friend. Please tell me what’s going on. Please.” Darlene was trembling as she glanced toward the pasture again.

“Evidently she fell off of her horse, but I need you to stay back. Got too many people out there as it is. We’ll let you know something soon.”

“Has someone notified her husband? Well, I mean, he’s her ex-husband, but he needs to know.” Darlene wiped the sweat dripping from her forehead.

“I’m not sure. I’ll try to find out.”

As the sheriff walked away, Darlene heard a rumbling in the distance. The helicopter wasn’t in view yet, but she guessed it was for transporting Layla to the hospital. It wouldn’t be long before it landed. Darlene’s heart was racing. She nonchalantly weaved her way through the crowd, some of whom were Fayette County police officers trying to keep the media back. Layla won’t like all this.

As soon as she found an opening, she darted past everyone and ran as fast as her short legs would carry her, weeds whipping against her bare calves as she tried to stay in her flip-flops on the uneven pasture. Six people surrounded Layla, and as Darlene came within a few feet of her friend, she could tell that Layla’s eyes were closed. No, no, no. Please, God . . . please.

“Please step back. You shouldn’t be out here,” someone behind her said. A big, round woman carrying some sort of machine scurried past Darlene. Once she’d delivered the device to the two paramedics squatting beside Layla, she came back to Darlene. “Are you family?”

This time Darlene said, “Yes. I am her family.” It was true, and the woman put a hand on her arm before easing her back a bit.

“She appears to be bleeding internally, and she has a large wound on the back of her head.” The woman looked up when the helicopter neared. “They’re taking her to Brackenridge Hospital in Austin.”

Darlene tried not to panic. She knew they took the most serious injuries to Brackenridge as a precaution. It didn’t mean it was life-threatening. She also knew that she wouldn’t be able to ride with Layla in the helicopter.

“How—how bad is it? I mean . . .” Darlene took a deep breath as she glanced at Layla again. Layla’s eyes were still closed, and there were no visible signs of injury.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. But if you want to go ahead and drive to Brackenridge, you won’t be there too long after the helicopter lands.” Layla nodded, and the paramedic hurried back to her side.

Darlene knew the woman was right, even though she didn’t want to leave Layla. “Okay,” she said softly.

She watched them hooking Layla up to tubes and wrapping her head in a large bandage. The lady paramedic returned as the blare of helicopter blades grew louder.

“The helicopter is about to land, and the media is going to be all over that. I’d go ahead and get on the road. If you go now, you might beat the reporters that will be en route.”

Darlene knew she should take the woman’s advice, so she clambered across the pasture toward Layla’s house. She wondered what Layla might need from home, and she was concerned about who would tend to her animals. Will Layla be all right?

Since everyone was farther down the cobblestone drive near the pasture, she made it to the front door without interruption. Once inside the house, she quickly went through Layla’s bathroom, grabbing a toothbrush and a few other items, then putting them in a travel bag she found in a drawer. On her way out, she picked up a picture of Layla, Tom, and Marissa that sat on the hutch and stuffed it in the bag. After locating Layla’s purse and keys, she locked the door on her way out.

She waited until she was on the main highway before she called Brad. He said he would leave right away for home so that both of them weren’t so far from the kids.

“Baby, everything is going to be okay.” Brad’s voice was assuring, and even though there were issues hanging between them, the sound of his words, the soft-spoken way he talked to her when she was upset, gave her comfort. Right now, she just wanted to be with Layla.

Two hours later, she was at Brackenridge, but she hadn’t beaten the media there. Television crews were parked outside, and Darlene was sure they were there about Layla. When she finally found the ICU unit, they told her she couldn’t go in unless she was an immediate family member. In desperation, she lied, “I’m her sister.”

A nurse escorted her back, but once they reached ICU Room 3, she asked Darlene to wait outside while she checked to see if Darlene could go in. A minute later, the woman returned and told Darlene that she couldn’t go in just yet. She pointed to a nearby chair and asked Darlene to wait. Darlene did as she was instructed, and she could hear muffled voices behind the door a few yards away.

Almost an hour later, the doctors finally came out, pulling masks off and peeling gloves from their hands. Darlene walked quickly toward them.

“Is she okay?”

An older doctor with gray hair and gold-rimmed glasses locked eyes with her, and Darlene’s heart flipped in her chest.

“I’m her sister,” Darlene lied for the second time.

The doctor sighed. “Your sister has a broken leg, several cracked ribs, and some internal bleeding.”

Darlene relaxed. That didn’t sound too bad. But then the doctor’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing.

“She’s suffered a bad head injury, and we’ll be taking her to surgery within the hour.” He paused. “She’s in a coma right now.”

Darlene blinked back tears. “Will she come out of the coma after the surgery?”

“We don’t know.” He stepped closer, and the wrinkles between his eyes and on his forehead deepened. His expression reminded her of the vet’s on the day he’d told her that Buddy wasn’t going to live. Darlene’s heart raced faster. “Her injuries are severe. I would let the rest of your family know, and—and if there is a member of the hospital clergy you would like to call before surgery, there should be someone on staff from several denominations.”

Darlene went weak in the knees, but she nodded. “A chapel? Where is the chapel?”

The doctor offered a faint smile. “Right off the lobby near the entrance.” He touched Darlene’s arm. “That’s really all you can do right now. Pray.”

Darlene cried the entire way to the lobby, and she was glad to see that the chapel was empty. She had lots to say to God.



Brad got home as soon as he could, but the kids were already there. When he walked in the front door, all three of his children met him.

Ansley wrapped her arms around Brad’s waist, sniffling. “Is Layla okay?”

“I don’t know anything, sweetheart.” Brad kissed the top of her head before easing her away. He tossed his briefcase on the couch, then glanced at the TV, which was on extra loud.

“It was on the evening news earlier.” Chad pointed the remote at the television and turned it up even more. “Maybe they’ll give an update soon.” He turned to Brad. “Dad, they said Layla wasn’t expected to live.” Chad’s eyes watered up. “Is that true?”

“I don’t know, son.” Brad sat down on the couch. “Turn that down some, Chad.” His head was splitting, and his heart hurt. For Layla, and for his wife. He knew how close the two women had become, and if anything happened to Layla, they’d all be devastated, but especially Darlene.

They were all quiet for a few minutes as the weatherman predicted some much-needed rain. When it appeared that they weren’t going to say anything else about Layla, Brad asked Chad to turn the TV off for now. Then he asked his son to go to Layla’s to check on the animals.

“I’ll go help too,” Ansley said.

After Chad and Ansley left, Grace sat down beside Brad. “Dad, should we say a prayer for Layla?”

Brad swallowed back a lump in his throat. “I think that’s a great idea.”

They lowered their heads, and Grace reached for Brad’s hand. He fought the tremble in his bottom lip. Things hadn’t gone well when he’d talked to Barbara today. And now this. “Why don’t you lead us in prayer?” Brad said in an unsteady voice.

Grace squeezed his hand.



Darlene was still in her raggedy shorts, T-shirt, and flip-flops. There hadn’t been time to change clothes, nor had she grabbed a bag for herself. She’d just wanted to get to the hospital as soon as she could. Earlier she’d worried that Tom wouldn’t get the news of Layla’s accident, but in the waiting room, she’d seen it on two different TV channels already.

Both broadcasts said that Layla was not expected to live, then they gave a brief history about her, showing clips of the films she’d made in her twenties. Darlene knew enough about the media to know that they were just building hype. They didn’t know anything more than Darlene knew. There were six men and one woman in the waiting room with her. Two of the men appeared to be waiting for news about someone else’s surgery, someone named Sam. The others appeared to be waiting for news about Layla.

In the chapel, she’d prayed for Layla, questioning God, crying, begging for forgiveness, and begging Him not to take Layla when her friend was so close to happiness again. She’d also covered just about everything in her life, including Grace’s continued recovery, healing in her marriage, no matter what the causes of their discord were. But mostly she’d asked for the Lord to lay His healing hands on Layla.

She laid her head back and closed her eyes, said a few more prayers. But the conversation between two of the men caught her attention.

“She was a beauty back in the day, huh?”

Darlene glanced to her left. The man doing the talking didn’t look much older than Chad, though he likely was, maybe a recent college graduate.

“She still is,” the other, slightly older man said. “I have a cousin who lives in Round Top. We bumped into her one day at a store. She’s still a beautiful woman.”

“Kind of a has-been, huh?”

“Yeah. She dropped out of the limelight after her daughter overdosed on pills.” He paused. “That’s what I heard anyway.”

“I heard that she hates the media, and that one time she kicked a cameraman in the shin, then pushed him down.”

Darlene grinned.

The older man chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve heard that story too. And a few others.”

Darlene jumped when the door to the waiting room opened. A herd of reporters piled into the room, some toting television cameras. Darlene frowned, knowing Layla wouldn’t like all this. She’d worked hard to stay away from the media.

A scowling African-American woman entered the room behind the crowd. She spoke loudly. “Which one of you is trying to pass yourself off as Layla’s sister?”

Darlene froze for a moment, then stood and walked over to the woman. She leaned close and whispered, “Can we talk somewhere else?” Darlene hurried out of the room, hoping the woman would follow.

Not only did the woman follow, but so did the reporters. Darlene opened a door that said Private and hurried inside, followed by the woman. She glanced around, glad that no one was in the business office, then closed the door and locked it.

“I’m her best friend. I knew they wouldn’t let me be with her unless I said I was her sister. Please don’t say anything. She’d want me to be here.”

The slender woman looked to be in her midforties, and she was well dressed in a tan pantsuit. Darlene thought briefly about her own appearance.

“You her neighbor?” The woman folded her arms across her chest.

“Yes. My family lives down the road from her in Round Top. Have you heard anything from the doctors?”

“No. But I’ve heard plenty about you.” She extended her hand. “I’m Sheila, Layla’s agent.”

Darlene shook her hand, again glancing around the private office and wondering how long they could stay in there before they got thrown back out to the media outside the door.

Sheila’s left eyebrow rose a fraction. “Layla’s told me about you. She obviously cares about you a lot, so I won’t blow your cover, but be careful what you say around those vultures.

They’re gonna latch onto you as Layla’s sister and quickly report that you’re a fraud.” She paused, shaking her head. “I might as well go out there and give them some sort of statement so they don’t complicate your life. I’ll tell them you are her best friend, and as such . . . you call each other sisters. They’ll probably still hound you for a while, but it won’t make you look like a groupie fan trying to get in to see Layla.”

Darlene nodded. “I’m guessing Tom found out from the news reports. Do you know if he’s on his way?”

“He’s in Thailand on a movie shoot, but he was booking a flight to leave when I talked to him.”

“Oh. I didn’t even know he was a movie star.”

“I don’t know if the term ‘movie star’ is accurate, certainly nothing like Layla, but he steps into a few small roles here and there.” She dug into her purse. “I live in New York, but I happened to be in Houston and saw the report on the news.” She handed Darlene a card. “I’m going to go out and speak to the media, then I’m going to have the hospital kick them all out, which should have already been done. Wait here until I’m through.”

Darlene did as Sheila asked, worried that the doctor would go into the waiting room to report on Layla and Darlene wouldn’t be there.

About ten minutes later, Sheila returned. “All clear.” She motioned for Darlene to follow her. They walked back to the waiting room where Sheila walked up to the TV in the corner and turned it off.

“I checked with the doctor, and they are still operating on Layla.” Sheila blinked several times, pressed her lips together. “They don’t know if she’s going to wake up, and if she does, if she’ll ever . . . be the same.”

Darlene sat in a chair, bent at the waist, and laid her face in her palms. Please, Lord . . . heal Layla. Please.

Sheila sniffled as she sat in a chair next to Darlene and put a hand on Darlene’s leg. “I tell you what. They don’t get any better than that woman in there.” She paused, pulled her hand away. “She comes across as one tough broad sometimes, but she’d give you her right arm if you needed one. I guess you already know all that.”

Darlene still had her head in her hands, but she nodded. Then she sat up straight.

They were quiet for a few moments, then Sheila stood. “I have to go. Unfortunately, I’m having a crisis of my own. I was in Houston at St. Luke’s Heart Institute at the Medical Center because my husband is scheduled for a triple bypass this afternoon.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I have to be there. But I wanted to come check on Layla for myself. It gives me comfort that you’re here, and I know Layla appreciates it. I’ve got a three-hour drive back to Houston.” She handed Darlene a card. “Please call me at that number the minute you hear something, and I’ll be back to visit Layla as soon as my husband is stable.”

Darlene nodded. “I will.”

A minute later, Darlene was alone.

She called Brad to check on the kids, and once again, the sound of his voice was a comfort to her. Everything had to be all right. It just had to be.

Then she prayed. And she prayed some more. Surely God would answer her prayers.

Forty-five minutes later, a doctor emerged from behind a door that was marked Surgery. He pulled off his surgical mask, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, and approached Darlene. She stood up, a pulsing knot in her stomach. She could tell by his tense, drawn face that her prayers had gone unanswered.