The future was bright but indistinct, and she couldn’t honestly assure him of anything. “Yaya will be around one way or another. I promise.” She watched him drink the milk out of his bowl. “Do you not like Bennett?”
“He can do card tricks and stuff. Plus, he has a cool dog.” Ben shrugged off his worry and hopped up to grab his backpack for school.
Back home after dropping him off, there was nothing she could do except for wait and worry over things that were in motion and couldn’t be changed.
Her phone buzzed midmorning. It was an unknown Fayetteville number. She tensed preparing herself for a problem with the lease or equipment or something bigger she couldn’t even anticipate.
“Hello.” She clutched her phone with both hands.
“Har-r-per.” Allison’s voice was wavery.
It was disconcerting how a tone could rocket her back to the moment she’d opened the door to the Navy chaplain saying her name. Some moments lived like an indelible ink stain in her memory, every nuance stored away forever. A splinter biting into her palm where she’d clutched the doorframe. The spring breeze on her face carrying the scent of blooming flowers. The face of the man who had stood on her front porch, the message he had yet to impart written in the lines of his face.
In Allison’s whisper of her name, a shift occurred, although Harper couldn’t map the seismic changes yet.
“What’s happened?”
“It’s Sophie.”
Harper’s stomach went into riot mode. She’d been expecting to hear Darren’s name. “Is she okay?”
“No.”
“How bad?”
Allison’s silence was answer enough.
“Where are you?”
“The children’s hospital.”
“I’m on my way.”
Allison disconnected and Harper stared at the blank screen, her body frozen as her mind whirled in the aftermath of an EF-5 emotional tornado. Ben. Harper controlled an urge to go check on him even though he was safe and sound.
Her mom’s footfalls on the stairs accompanied her off-tune singing of a pop song. The mundane was comforting, and Harper only watched her mom pour coffee and wrap her hands around the mug, taking a deep sniff and smiling.
After her first sip, she glanced over, her smile turning into a tense, thin line. “What’s wrong? Is it Bennett?”
Harper shook her head, not sure if she could sort out the words rampaging through her head. “Allison’s youngest. Little Sophie’s been hurt. I’m not sure what happened or how bad it is.”
“Do you need to go to her?”
Harper nodded.
“Don’t worry about Ben. I’ll take care of him.”
“I know.” Harper’s voice croaked and her mom swept her into a hug that smelled of coffee and her lotion. Harper dropped her forehead to her mom’s shoulder and took a deep breath. For a second, she wished she could leap back in time to when things were simple and easy and her biggest worry was whether she’d play red rover or tag at recess.
“Are you okay to drive?” Her mom pulled away, the fantasy slipping away.
Her emotions realigned from inward to outward. What must Allison and Darren be going through right now? “I’ll be fine. Promise. I might be there a couple of days depending…”
“Whatever you need to do for Allison.”
Harper took the stairs two at a time and threw some clothes into an overnight bag.
“Call or text me as soon as you know what’s going on.” Her mom was waiting at the door with a to-go mug of coffee.
After another brief hug, Harper got on the road, cursing the red lights and traffic. The tourists were sparse but increasing as the weather warmed. She finally reached the highway and had a hard time keeping her car near the speed limit. Was the blank screen of her phone a good or bad sign?
Bennett would be out in the wilderness with his phone tucked away. At best, he might check it later that night. Even so, he couldn’t leave a set of corporate clients in the Dismal Swamp to fend for themselves.
She willed Allison to call with an update. The longer the silence lasted, the worse the scenarios her imagination produced.
With still no word from Allison, Harper entered the hospital and was directed to the children’s wing waiting room. She stepped off the elevator into a cheerily decorated hall. Brightly colored butterflies took flight on the wall and gauzy 3-D dragonfly models hung from the ceiling. In opposition to the pretty displays was the smell of antiseptic and sickness.
She followed arrows to the waiting room. Allison stood straight and still looking out a large window overlooking the parking lot while Darren sat crunched over, his head in his hands. A family whispering Spanish to one another took up another set of chairs. Worry permeated the room from all corners.
“Allison,” Harper said softly, her voice breaking the solemn calm of the room like a rock thrown into a placid lake.
Allison tripped over the leg of a chair making her way to hug Harper. Except it was less a hug and more a surrender. Her weight fell across Harper’s shoulders. She guided Allison toward a chair near to Darren, but Allison resisted, instead steering them back toward the window.
“I feel like the walls are closing in on me.” Allison’s breathing was shallow and fast and sweat popped on her forehead.
Darren hadn’t moved to acknowledge Harper’s presence, so she focused on Allison. Harper forced her to sit, grabbed the nearest magazine, and fanned her. The picture of a smiling, happy celebrity couple on the cover was tone deaf to the surroundings. Maybe someone would find comfort in the superficiality of their life, but if the couple had been standing in front of Harper she might be tempted to punch their perfect, fake smiles.
“How’s Sophie?” Harper asked gently as if the words themselves were scalpels tearing flesh.
“In surgery.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
Allison’s eyes darted toward Darren, but she didn’t turn toward him to offer either comfort or commiseration. “Darren and I were fighting. It got … heated. Libby and Ryan had already left for the bus stop, but I was going to drive Sophie. I thought she was waiting for me in the den.” She held a fist to her mouth.
“She went outside?”
Allison nodded and took a shuddery breath. “I’m not sure if she was planning to walk to the bus stop or if she was trying to get away from us. A motorcycle came around the corner.”
Harper’s heart galloped ahead. “She was hit?”
“The man—kid really, not more than nineteen—said she darted out in front of him.”
“Broken bones?”
“Leg and wrist. She hit her head and hasn’t woken up.” The last emerged on a sob.
“What have the doctors said?”
“Swelling on the brain. If it doesn’t go down, they’ll have to … to drill into my baby’s skull.” Allison seemed to wilt at that point, her head dropping to her knees.
Harper rubbed her back and didn’t press for more information. Darren didn’t look up or offer support. The distance between Allison and Darren yawned deeper and broader than a few feet in a waiting room.
Once Allison had a tenuous hold on her emotions, Harper asked, “What about Libby and Ryan? Do you want me to get them?”
“They don’t know. Could you meet them at the house after they get off the bus and bring them here? I can’t leave in case—” Allison covered her mouth and looked outside. Unmarred by a single cloud, blue sky stretched to forever. It seemed blasphemous.
A doctor in a white coat and carrying a tablet turned the corner. Everyone in the waiting room stood. Darren wavered and hugged his arms over his chest as if he were holding himself together. He looked terrible. Gaunt, with deepened furrows alongside his mouth and along his forehead.
The doctor’s gaze locked on them as he approached. “Mr. and Mrs. Teague?”
“Yes?” Allison grabbed Harper’s arm and pulled her forward to meet with the doctor, ignoring Darren.
“Your daughter is out of surgery. Her leg was a simple break, but her wrist required pins.”
“Is she awake?” Desperation colored Allison’s voice and transmitted loud and clear in the painful clutch she had on Harper’s arm.
“She’s still under anesthesia.”