“She said she’s not hurt. The ambulance is taking them to the hospital. A tree. They hit a tree, Roger.” My voice went high as it hit the end of the sentence. I closed my eyes. “I need to calm down. You’ll drive me there?”
“Of course. Besides, I care about Ellen. I’d like to see for myself that she’s OK.”
“That’s what Ellen said . . . that she was OK. OK is such a big word, isn’t it? A huge word, an awful word, a word that means nothing because it could mean anything.” I forced my eyes to open. “Let’s go.”
In the fringe of the woods bordering the winding state road, wild eyes lit the night. Deer, of course, but the eyes of other creatures, too. My hands had been shaking since I’d gotten the call, and all those eyes seemed threatening. Anything that might delay me in reaching Ellen was unacceptable. I wanted Roger to drive faster.
Roger noticed my anxiety. He reached across the center console and grasped my hand. “She’s fine, Hannah. She said so, and we’ll see her soon.”
I nodded. “Two of her friends aren’t fine, though, and she could be downplaying her own situation. She could have an injury that doesn’t show up right away.”
“There’s no value in worrying. Once you’re there and you can see for yourself, you’ll see she’s fine, and you’ll be fine.”
“You’re right, Roger. Thank you.”
“That’s better.”
“I could’ve driven. I’m sorry to have dragged you out here.”
“I volunteered. Besides, you’re too distracted. Distracted, worried driving—it’s not a good mix.” He smiled at the night and the dark road ahead. “I’m glad you let me help tonight.”
“I’m accustomed to being independent.”
Roger took the ramp onto the interstate. Not much farther, though the Charlottesville stoplights and traffic slowed us down. The stop-and-start pace wreaked havoc on my nerves.
Roger spoke again. “You had to be independent. You took care of yourself, your grandmother, your daughter—all on your own. It’s a good thing to be, but you have to know when and how to let others help you.”
I could’ve told him that if you allow others into your life, then suddenly they want to know about you, and secrets have a way of getting out when people get too close. I didn’t say that, though, and instead told him, “You’re helping me. You’re building my house.”
“I build many houses. It’s my profession. It’s not the same thing.”
“What about you?” I turned the focus to him. “You’re also very independent.”
Roger frowned. “It wasn’t a choice. It’s just how it worked out.”
“It was the same for me. Not what I’d planned. Gran needed my help, so I put off college, only for a year, I thought, and then along came Ellen. But you know most of that already. We’ve talked about it before.”
“I’m sorry I never met your grandmother. I—”
“How much longer do you think?” I interrupted.
“We’re here. There’s the ER sign.” He touched my cheek. “You going to be OK?”
“OK?” I said, then caught myself. “What a word.” We both laughed a little, and that helped. I felt stronger.
Roger dropped me at the door to the emergency room. “You go,” he said. “I’ll park the car.” I nodded thanks, slipped out of his vehicle, and dashed through the automatic doors.
I blew through the sliding doors at the hospital, past the reception area, then headed straight back. I expected a security guard to grab me. I was confident I could give him the slip or drag him with me, but no one challenged me or tried to stop me from reaching my daughter. As if we each had built-in homing devices, I went straight to Ellen’s cubicle and pushed aside the curtains. She was sitting in an ER bed but was unattended and, indeed, except for a bump and a bandage on her forehead, she looked fine. I dropped my purse on the foot of the wheeled bed and threw wide my arms. Ellen reached toward me. We hugged for one long moment. Ellen surprised me. Her grip was like iron, and she kept repeating, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy . . .” over and over.
“Are you Ms. Cooper?” a man said.
I turned toward him as I tried to ease Ellen’s grip. “I am.”
“We did a head scan to be on the safe side. All her vitals are good. There are no broken bones. The bump on the head appears superficial. She’ll need to take it easy for a couple of days. She may also feel some anxiety or emotional trauma. If that develops, be sure to contact your family doctor and—”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. I kept my hands on Ellen but let some air come between us. “What happened?”
The doctor looked toward the desk, beyond where I could see from my vantage point with the curtain halfway pulled and blocking my view. “I’ll let the officer know you’re here. Meanwhile, your daughter can fill you in.”
His words were colorless, but his face was kind, and the smile he offered Ellen was warm. That told me she was OK—OK as far as the police officer was concerned, too—I felt sure. There was nothing severe in the doctor’s expression—at least not toward my daughter. He left.
I sat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know, Mom. Honest. We were on our way to the movie theater in Charlottesville. We were still out of town, out in the country, when . . . when it all went crazy.”
“Who was driving?”
“Bonnie. She hit her head. Or the airbag hit her. I don’t know, but she was bleeding a lot.” Ellen touched her own head to indicate where Bonnie’s head was bloody.
“Your head . . . Is that swelling from the airbag?”
“Um, no. I was in the backseat. Her car doesn’t have side airbags.”
I frowned. “Who was in the front seat with Bonnie?”
“Her boyfriend, John. You met him once, I think.”
“How is he?”
“I think he hurt his shoulder.”
“You were in the backseat?”
She nodded.
“With?”
“Braden.”
It took all my inner strength to control my reaction, to keep my expression even. Her friend was in the front seat, driving, and Ellen was in the backseat with a boy. I tried to digest that and speak without sounding too suspicious or critical. “Do I know him?”
“No, I don’t think so. His family moved back to the area last year.”
“I didn’t realize it was a double date.”
“Mom. I’m a senior. I’m allowed, right?”
“Did you deliberately let me think this was just another group date?” I waved my hand, but gently, then straightened the sheet over her legs. “If so, I’d like to know why?”
“It’s not a big deal, Mom. I feel like you don’t want me to date. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“No worries. We’ll talk about this more at home.” I touched her forehead and smoothed stray hairs back out of her face. “And yes, it is perfectly fine for you to date. I want to know beforehand so I don’t find out this way. But it’s not worth you wasting even a moment of worry over it right now.”
“Braden’s hurt, Mom.” She looked so young when she bit her lip. She was trying not to cry.
“Badly?”
“I don’t know. His arm is the worst, I think. Maybe his head. He wasn’t wearing a seat belt.”
“Was he thrown from the car?”