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His phone rang and he tapped his earpiece. “Yeah.”
“When are you going to be here?” Travis asked. “Your student’s already here, champing at the bit.”
“Tell him I’m sorry I’m late and I’ll be there in about five minutes. I’m almost at—”
Holy shit! Out of the corner of his eye he saw a truck run a stop sign, spin and head dead straight for him. Automatically reacting, he shifted into first, turning the steering wheel hard as he did so. For an instant he thought he was clear and then the truck plowed into the driver’s side, just behind his door. The rear end spun around while he fought for control. A tree loomed, he tried to brake, but it was too late, and he slammed into it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Late that afternoon Damaris’s cell phone rang. Travis Sullivan, the caller ID read. That was odd. Why is Travis calling… Oh, shit! It’s about Nate. He could be calling about something else, but a horrible feeling in her gut told her she was right and it was serious. All that flashed through her mind between the phone ringing and her answering.
She hit answer and snapped, “What happened?”
“Damaris? It’s Travis.”
“I know,” she said impatiently. “I saw the caller ID. Did something happen to Nate?” Please, God, don’t let it be a plane crash.
“Yes. He was in a wreck.”
The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “A plane crash?” she whispered.
“No. Someone broadsided his car. He’s in the hospital.”
A car accident. That was better than a plane crash. Wasn’t it? “The Jamison?” she asked, naming the big hospital in Last Stand.
“No, Whiskey River. It was closer.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Wait. I called you because I know you’re close to Grandma K, and I thought it would be better if you were to be with her to tell her about Nate.”
“Tell her what? I don’t know anything beyond he was in a wreck and is in the hospital. I can’t tell her that and leave her wondering if he’s even alive.” Obviously, he was alive or Travis would have said. Wouldn’t he? “Travis, he’s alive, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s alive. But you’re right about Grandma K. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m messed up. I was on the phone with him when it happened.”
“So you heard the wreck?”
“Yes,” he said grimly.
“What are his injuries? He can’t—he doesn’t want to call Grandma K?”
“That’s the thing. We don’t know the extent of the injuries. The ER doc thinks his arm is broken and isn’t sure what else. Maybe some ribs. They’re taking him for x-rays and a CT scan.”
“That’s all the doctor’s been able to tell you?”
“So far. The thing is…they don’t know if he lost consciousness prior to when the EMTs got there.”
“How worried is the doctor?”
“I don’t know. He’s not talking much. Says we’ll see once he’s had the tests.” He paused and added, “Tobi just walked in. I’ll call when I know something more.”
“Never mind that. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Tobi, the doctor who’d put in her IUD, was Travis’s wife and a doctor at the urgent care clinic in town. She was thankful Tobi was there. Travis wasn’t doing well, which of course made her worry even more. If Travis was so upset—a pilot, who as far as she knew, never got rattled—then it must be bad.
She hollered for Marshall and started unsaddling Cinnamon. Luckily Marshall was in the barn and came quickly.
“What?” He took one look at her and asked sharply, “What happened?”
“Nate was in an accident. Car, not plane. He’s in the hospital. Can you take care of Cinnamon?”
