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I nod, still trying to fit all the pieces together. Fred had told me the friend left in a hurry when Ingrid was living in North Carolina. I simply assumed they’d had some kind of spat and when she didn’t return that it was final. I can’t imagine rushing off across the country for love so impetuously.
“Come on, I want to get those groceries home before they melt,” Ingrid chides me and starts the engine. We’ve agreed that I will follow her back to town and that she’s to drive the speed limit the entire way. The open spaces here might encourage bad behavior, but it also means help will take far longer to arrive.Ifanyone even notices that help is required.
Driving is another bone of contention between us. She had her license when she came to live with me, but just barely. And I certainly didn’t want her attempting the streets of New York with so little experience. However, when I took her out to the rural outskirts to practice, she was so annoyed she did everything she could to drive me bat-shit crazy.
I’m back to thinking Justin needs my help. He’s been looking so confused this morning! It must only be beginning to dawn on him that I am actually capable of looking after myself. Well, as long as I’m not dragging luggage up the stairs, I guess. Still. I sigh heavily as I keep one eye on the speedometer. I would seriously be home by now if I didn’t have Justin trailing a consistent and conservative tenth of a mile behind me. There is nothing and nobody on the road in front of us. Nothing.
Which is probably why I notice the boring dark vehicle stopped at the end of a dusty gravel road that joins the highway. It’s just sitting there. With the engine running… There are no services out here. There’s certainly no traffic they need to wait for before turning. I look closer. As if sensing my scrutiny, the driver makes a show of checking her hair and makeup in the rear-view mirror, obscuring my view of her face. That’s why I notice she’s a redhead.
Out of curiosity, I slow down slightly as I go behind the rocky curve in the road where the trees loom over the pavement. That’s probably the only reason I hear the crash. It’s a loud, shocking screech of metal on metal that reverberates off the rocks. And then a solid thud that has no echo. An instant later, there’s nothing but silence.
Justin!
Slamming on the brakes, I scan the road frantically in all directions, but as before, it’s completely empty. My hands are shaking and my heart is in my throat as I carefully do a three-point turn, eyeing the rocks hanging near the road. According to the nearby warning sign, sometimes they tumble down onto the road below. Is that what happened? I don’t think I can move a rock. But I may just have to try. The eerie stillness continues as I cautiously accelerate. I need to get to where he is quickly, but not so fast that I can’t stop the instant I need to.
I’m beginning to hyperventilate as I drive back the way I just came. It’s only seconds, but feels like hours before I arrive at the silent crash site. Justin’s vehicle is on its side. The other car is nowhere to be seen. The giant rock I was expecting isn’t in evidence.
“Justin!” I scream, trying to see inside the vehicle while also frantically reaching in my purse for my cell phone. Where is the damn thing? God, what if there’s no coverage out here? “Justin! Answer me!”
He’s silent. There’s nothing but wind through the nearby pine trees in response.
I can barely keep my hand steady to dial the three digits for 9-1-1. The calmness of the woman taking my call is reassuring,but the smoke trailing from the engine of Justin’s car is not. “Hurry!” I tell her.
“An ambulance and fire crew are on their way,” she promises without any sense of panic. She ends the call, leaving me to try to jump to see inside the vehicle. He’s only unconscious, right? Nobody could die that fast?
7
I don’t know where they originated, but out of nowhere, the air is filled with the sound of sirens and the flash of red and blue lights reflecting off the rocks. And I’m quickly invisible. Someone asks if I’m hurt but when I say, “No, I was driving ahead,” all their attention is diverted to getting Justin out of the vehicle. First, they have to put the car back on its wheels. When there’s not even a groan from within, I’m sure he’s dead. And my heart breaks all over again. I can’t see anything because of the big bodies of the emergency crew.
So I’m almost surprised when they carefully lift him out of the car and onto a stretcher. His face is so pale. They pack him in the back of the ambulance and shut the doors with a speed and efficiency that has me blinking in renewed shock. The sirens go back on and the ambulance drives down the road towards the auto dealership. That’s when I realize I don’t even know where they’re taking him.
The fire crew remains behind. They’re aiming some kind ofrepellent under the smoking and bent hood. “Where are they taking him?” I call out from a safe distance, almost frantically.
“County General,” one of them calls out, not even turning to look at me.
That must be the hospital. I nod even though nobody is watching me and walk back to my car, realizing that I’m clueless about Justin’s emergency contacts or if he even has any.
I have never felt so alone in my entire life. I don’t know why they didn’t send any police out — maybe they’re busy somewhere else, but I’ll have to file a report. Someone deliberately hit Justin, almost like they were lying in wait for him, which doesn’t make sense. From what he said, nobody even knows he’s here.
Before I restart my new-to-me car, I study the map on my phone that tells me where the hospital is. Kind of. I need to watch for the turn to Harris St. If I find that, the rest looks easy enough. My body is achy with tension and impending tears. It can’t end like this. It just can’t.
I ease back onto the highway, my eyes peeled for any more parked cars, but there’s nothing. I do see a police car heading toward the accident. Their lights aren’t flashing, so I’ve no idea if that’s their destination or not. They certainly aren’t in much of a hurry. I bite my lip and continue eyeing the dusty lanes abutting the highway, looking for anything that says Harris. Ten miles past the dealership, I find it. Helpfully marked by one of those large blue and white H signs. I turn and finally see the hospital two streets over, just like the map said.
It’s a long low building. Almost like an elementary school if I’m honest, but as long as it has the necessary things like beds and doctors, I don’t really care.
The parking lot has only a smattering of vehicles, so it’s not hard to find a space. When I slide out, I’m surprised to find it hard to stand straight. My body is so tense with anxiety. I take three deep breaths and force my fingers to relax. Then myarms. A shuddery sigh escapes, and I close my eyes. I need to go find Justin. He shouldn’t be alone for this.
My brain refuses to define whatthisis. It doesn’t even matter right now.
When the large glass doors of the hospital automatically part as I approach them, I realize I have another problem. I’m not related to Justin. If all the TV shows are true, they won’t even be able to tell me what room he’s in. That’s when I decide to lead with the lie, even though it leaves me trembling with even more nerves.
The front desk is manned by an older couple in light blue uniforms withvolunteerstitched over the pocket. The woman looks up from her computer screen with a friendly smile.
“My- my husband was brought in. In the ambulance? Where can I find him? Or…” I think my lack of words tells her more. Her expression softens even further, and she was looking like a cuddly grandma before.
“Right down the green corridor there, dear. There’s a cozy little waiting room and you tell Denise at the desk who you’re looking for.”
I thank her quietly and follow the green line painted on the walls like my life depends on it. It’s not complicated, but I still sigh with some relief when I spot the next reception desk. Her badge says Denise, so I must be in the right place.
