Chapter
20
We
all watched her, silent, waiting for her to continue.
“It
all started when I was sixteen,” Sammy began.
“I got raped.” We gasped. Nick looked completely shocked, and I
realized he must not have known. “Then I
found out I was pregnant,” she continued.
“I didn’t get rid of the baby. I
didn’t want to. I had always wanted
children. Not that early, of course, but
I definitely didn’t want to have an abortion.
I didn’t want to give the baby up for adoption either. So, I had the baby, and I kept it. It was a little girl, and I named her
Megan. She was so beautiful, with blond,
curly hair and hazel eyes. My mom helped
take care of her so that I could finish high school. Then I moved out into my
own apartment to raise her. Things were
difficult at first, but I had a job and made enough money to get us
through. I loved Megan so much. But then, one day, something happened. Megan was four years old then. I can still remember that day, ten years
ago…”
***
“Late, late, late,” I chanted, as I drove to the
preschool. It was time to pick up Megan
from school, and I was running late.
Luckily, the traffic wasn’t too bad in the middle of the afternoon. “Damn,” I cursed under my breath as the
stoplight ahead turned yellow, then red.
I slowed to a stop.
I glanced into my rearview mirror just in time to see a
big, black car speeding towards me. It
slammed on its brakes, but I braced myself for impact, knowing it was going to
hit me. Sure enough, a second later, the
car rear-ended mine. My body jolted
forward and back against the seat from the impact. But I was fine. I jerked my car door opened and climbed out,
furious. I stormed back to the other
car. The driver of it, a big, tall man,
also climbed out.
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry,” he apologized. “I guess I was daydreaming and didn’t notice
the light until it was too late. Don’t
you worry, I’ll pay for all the damage done to the car.”
I softened. “Thank
you,” I said, still a little pissed at him.
We both walked to where the cars had hit and looked at the damage. The
front of his big car was only dented a little, but the back of my little Neon
was crumpled in.
“Do you have your insurance card?” I asked the man.
“Um… yeah,” he said.
He dug into his pockets and pulled out a wallet. He opened it up and searched through it.
Meanwhile, I glanced at my watch and realized I was almost ten minutes late to
get Megan. I couldn’t wait any longer.
“Excuse me, sir, but I’m late to pick up my daughter from
school,” I said.
“Will your car start?” he asked.
“I guess I’ll find out,” I said, climbing into the driver’s
seat. I turned the key in the ignition,
and to my relief, the car started.
“Good,” the man said, offering me a smile. “Tell you what. I’ll call the police and get this all
straightened out. You’ll get your car fixed
as soon as possible, ok?”
“Okay, thanks a lot,” I said, returning his smile. Then I sped off down the road, heading to the
preschool.
When I got to the preschool, I hurried inside. Miss Jordan, the teacher, stood talking to
the mother of one of the other kids. The
mother’s little boy sat in the play area, playing with some toy cars. I glanced around, but didn’t see Megan
anywhere.
Miss Jordan saw me looking around. “Hello, Miss Peter,” she said, smiling. “Can I help you?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, perplexed. “I’m here to pick up Megan. Where is she?”
Miss Jordan’s eyes widened.
“Megan went home about ten minutes ago,” she said.
“What?!” I cried.
“Yes, one of your friends came to pick her up,” Miss Jordan
explained. “I’m sorry about your car
accident. Is everyone okay?”
“Car accident?” I asked.
“It was only a little fender bender.
But how did you know that?”
“Your friend told Megan that,” Miss Jordan replied.
“Who was it?” I asked.
None of my friends were supposed to pick up Megan. I was beginning to panic.
“Um…I’m afraid I didn’t catch his name. He was wearing black slacks and a black
leather jacket and sunglasses, and he had dark hair. He was a fairly good sized man.”
She said that as if I would immediately know who she was
talking about. But I didn’t. I didn’t really have any close male friends,
especially that fit that description.
“So, he just came in and got her?!” I asked, my voice
rising. Miss Jordan’s face flushed, as
if she had suddenly realized she had made a mistake in letting Megan go with
some man. She was only a first year
teacher, so I figured she was not used to things like this.
“Well, yes,” she said slowly. “He came in and told Megan that her Mommy
couldn’t come to pick her up because she had gotten into a little car accident,
so she had asked him to pick her up and take her back to his house instead.”
“Oh, my God,” I whispered, my eyes wide and
frightened. “I never called anyone. And none of my friends look like that.”
Miss Jordan’s eyes widened.
“Oh, my,” she said softly. “Maybe
you should call the police. It sounds
like Megan was kidnap-“
“No shit!” I exploded.
“Where’s your phone?” I demanded.
She led me to the phone, and I quickly dialed the number for the local
police station, trying as hard as I could to keep calm, which wasn’t working
very well. How could anyone keep calm
when their child was missing?
***
Sammy
was crying as she explained what had happened that fateful day. “The police never found her,” she
sobbed. “They looked for over a year,
and they found nothing, not even her body.
Then they gave up. They told me
she was most likely dead.”
We
all stared at her, silent in our shock and horror. I had heard of things like that happening
before, but never to someone I knew. It
seemed to awful to even imagine. What
must Sammy have gone through? Exactly
the same thing Brian and Leighanne were, I realized. They understood each other.
Brian
and Leighanne seemed even more upset after hearing Sammy’s story. They just kept praying that the same thing
wouldn’t happen to Hope.
***
Finally,
not long after Sammy told us her heartrending story, another doctor came into
the room. He was an older man, with gray
hair and kind blue eyes.
“Hello
there,” he greeted us, smiling slightly.
“Which one of you ladies is Dr. Benton’s wife?”
“That’s
me,” I said, standing up. I offered him
my hand. “I’m Dr. Julie Benton,” I said.
“Oh,
a doctor?” he asked, smiling. I nodded,
feeling a little more comfortable. This
doctor seemed friendly enough. “What
field are you in”
“Pediatrics,”
I replied.
He
nodded, smiling. “Well, my name’s Dr.
John Coleman. I’m Joshua’s
surgeon.” We shook hands. “Would you like to speak with me in private,
or do you want to just talk here?” he asked.
“Here’s
fine,” I replied. I knew if the news was
bad, I would need support from my friends.
“So, how did Josh’s surgery go?” I asked anxiously, not being able to
stand the suspense any longer.
Dr.
Coleman cleared his throat. “Well, before I start, let me tell you that Josh is
alive and in Recovery now.”
I
nodded, feeling a wave of fear wash over me.
I had a gut feeling that what Dr. Coleman was about to tell me was not
good.
“However,”
Dr. Coleman continued, and I drew in a breath, “there were some complications
during surgery.”
“What
kind of complications?” I asked, my voice soft and trembling.
“Well,
from what we could tell, when Josh was attacked, he was stabbed at least once
in the abdomen and was also kicked or hit in the torso. He had blood in his abdomen, but we cleared
that up and did our best to repair the damage done. Because of the blow he received to his upper
body, several ribs were cracked, and one, located on the left side of his rib
cage, was broken. Normally, this
wouldn’t cause much of a problem, but sometimes, things happen. In Josh’s case, his broken rib jutted into
his lung, puncturing it. It also nicked
his heart. He went into cardiac arrest during
surgery, but luckily, we were able to resuscitate him. The damage done to his lung should heal up on
its own, given time, although it’s very fragile right now. However, because the surgery took longer than
we had expected, we had to close him up before we could find the extent of the
damage to his heart. Therefore, I’d like
to do a CT scan and a heart biopsy as soon as he’s stable. Right now, he’s having a hard time breathing
because of his damaged lung, so he’s on a respirator.” I sat there, frozen in place with my shock
and grief as I processed the doctor’s words.
I finally found my voice to ask the question I feared the answer to
most.
“What
are his odds?” I asked. As a doctor
myself, I knew Dr. Coleman would have predicted Josh’s odds of survival. I just didn’t know what they were, and I
wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But I had
to know.
“Right
now, I’d say his odds of surviving are 30-70,” Dr. Coleman said grimly. I sucked in a breath. Dr. Coleman lay a hand on my shoulder and
said gently, “You know, the odds can go up.”
I nodded sadly, feeling little comfort from his words.
“Are
there any questions?” Dr. Coleman asked, his gaze scanning the room.
“When
can we see him?” AJ asked.
“Not
until he’s moved into his own room in the ICU.
Then you may see him, but only two at a time,” Dr. Coleman
responded.
We
nodded. “Thank you,” I told Dr. Coleman
sincerely, shaking his hand again.
“You’re
welcome, Dr. Benton,” Dr. Coleman replied.
“I need to get going now, but I’ll see you all later.”
“Bye,”
we all said as he left the room. Once he
was gone, I sank to the back of the couch, tears stinging my eyes, feeling as
if the life was being sucked out of me, as it was Josh.
***
