Beaten Paths, page 3
I hollered her name one last time, but it was pointless. At the top of the front stoop, I watched my sister defy me with glee. My chest heaved from racing from my room to the porch, and I was so mad I could spit nails. And in that moment, with her friends hurling childish insults and my sister proud of what she’d done, I snapped.
Miranda Adams had gone too far this time.
Not only had she disobeyed me, but she’d defied Daddy, and I, for one, was tired of her immature antics.
My fists were so tightly clenched at my side that my nails broke through the skin in my palm, but I didn’t notice until I grabbed my keys from the bowl by the door. I wiped the smattering of blood on my jean shorts and stomped out to my car. There was only one place Randi and her friends would go, and if I had to follow her there and make a scene, then that’s what I planned to do. She’d be mortified, but it served her right.
The steering wheel was scalding hot, and I’d swear I heard the blood on my hands sizzle, but that might have just been my anger bubbling over. I rolled down the windows until the air conditioner had a chance to kick in and barreled down our long, gravel driveway. The crunch of the rocks under the tires normally soothed me, but today they were like grit in my eye and nothing more than an irritant that kept me from proceeding at the speed I preferred.
The wind did its best to rip at my ponytail, and the sun tried to blind me. The long, country road to the lake spread out ahead, and the heat shimmer created a mirage on the asphalt. I pulled down the visor to stop the light from directly hitting my pupils; those bright golden beams were just enough to obstruct my vision.
And then my world shattered.
I wasn’t sure which happened first, or maybe it all happened simultaneously. Shards of glass rained on my arms and legs and lap and nicked at my cheeks, imbedding themselves beneath the skin. The whoosh of multiple airbags deploying rushed my ears just before the seatbelt locked, and I was pinned against the seat.
Everything hurt from my head to my toes, so much so that I couldn’t identify where one ache started and another began. Each movement caused unfathomable pain, all while the smell of gasoline and an electrical fire singed my nostrils. I had to get free, but despite my best effort, there wasn’t a single muscle I could move successfully. Either, I was pinned or paralyzed; I couldn’t decide which.
Darkness crept along the edges of my vision as panic set in. I had to get out, but I couldn’t formulate a complete thought much less escape. I didn’t know what I’d hit or even if the car was upright. Based on the way my head spun and weight pressed on my shoulders, I had to be upside down. The strap across my chest pulled so tightly there was no other explanation, but it might have been my imagination.
I hung in some surreal dimension that had to be just short of hell. My ears rang, and a horn blared non-stop on top of the white noise I couldn’t silence. Smoke billowed from somewhere, but I couldn’t see beyond the crumpled metal to know if it came from the engine. I fought like crazy to pry my lids open, to stay alert.
But the darkness came in like a thief in the night, blotting out more and more of my vision until all that remained were silvery spheres that glimmered like bubbles. Just as my eyes closed, a piercing cry floated around me. It could have been a scream for help or someone writhing in pain. I wanted to holler, yell for someone to save me from this agony, but my tongue grew thick.
And then everything went black.
2
Charlie
This was the last place I wanted to be, but I had questions about the work I was doing for Jack on his ranch, and just because his life had stopped, didn’t mean mine could. Someone had to keep his cattle and land watered, or he’d have far bigger issues than just Sarah when his ranch met its demise. My parents had thought it was a good idea for me to use this as an excuse to come check on Jack and Sarah. My mom had even sent me with a plate of food because she knew Jack wouldn’t have eaten. That’s what women in this town did. They fed people. A lady had a baby, they got casseroles. Someone got married, they catered the reception. Funeral—food. It was some Southern tradition that had passed from generation to generation, and I doubted I would ever understand it. But it did give me a reason to show up the day after the second tragedy of Jack’s life fell on his shoulders.
I didn’t have a clue where he might be. I imagined in whatever waiting room was closest to Sarah, but this was so far out of my comfort zone that I was lost. I started in the emergency room since that’s where Randi and Austin had last seen Jack. I didn’t have the details of that encounter but based on what my little brother had told my mom, it hadn’t been pretty.
The antiseptic smell singed my nostrils as soon as I passed through the sliding glass doors and into the emergency room—or maybe it was the death they were trying to cover up that made my head hurt. I hated this place. Time seemed to stop inside these walls. People could wait for hours with a broken bone while others were rushed in and out on gurneys. Nurses and doctors scurried about like their tales were on fire, but then the woman at the nurses’ station barely batted an eye. Nothing about her demeanor or her day looked hectic or frazzled. For a place that handled emergencies, nothing appeared to move. No one seemed to go anywhere. And by the time a staff member finally acknowledged a patient, it was only to usher that person to another room to wait.
I glanced around the ER and didn’t see Jack or anyone else I knew, so I stepped up to the desk to ask the nurse where I could find them. She pointed me toward the elevator and to the seventh floor where Sarah was in surgery.
Even if Jack hadn’t been the only person in the waiting room when I made it onto the floor, he would have stood out like a sore thumb. The man looked like he’d aged a decade overnight. His eyes were weary, and bags clung to them. I’d never noticed the weathered appearance of his skin from years out in the sun, but today, every wrinkle, scar, and divot was prominently displayed. And his knee bounced like a jackhammer.
“Hey, Jack.” I took a seat next to him with the tinfoil-covered plate of food my mom had sent for him still in my hand.
He turned toward me, patted my knee, and gave me the feeblest attempt at a smile I’d ever seen. Fear clung to Jack like a wet shirt, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. “Hey, son.”
It wasn’t unusual for Jack to use terms of endearment with me. I’d grown up with him at my table, in the pew next to me at church, and I’d worked with him for the better part of my adult life. But somehow, it seemed odd when his daughter’s life hung in the balance.
“How’s Sarah?” There wasn’t an easy way to ask, and ignoring the circumstances would just be rude.
He ran a frail hand through his greying hair. “She’s in surgery, but she hasn’t woken up since the accident.” Jack tried to sound optimistic, but his eyes gave him away.
I handed him the plate and shrugged. “Mom thought you might be hungry.”
“She means well, Charlie. It’s just what women do.” He brought the plate to his nose. “Fried chicken?” he asked, the corner of his mouth tipping up.
I chuckled. Mom was famous around here for her chicken. “Yeah. She made it just for you. There was a peach cobbler in the oven when I left there a little while ago.” I shook my head. “Leave it to the women in this town and you’ll be fatter than butter.”
Jack stood abruptly. I watched as he traveled the length of the room and back. If he were here very long, he’d wear a path into the floor. I didn’t do small talk, and I sucked at empathy. I had questions I needed answers to, but I couldn’t bring myself to cut to the chase. Instead, I sat in awkward silence. Jack returned to his seat, and that knee went to bouncing. He propped his elbow on the other thigh and covered his mouth. I could only imagine the thoughts that crossed his mind and the emotion that squeezed his heart. He’d lost his wife when she’d just up and left him eight or nine years ago—losing his daughter would destroy him.
I wanted to ask if there was anything I could do—I knew there wasn’t—but he didn’t appear to want to talk. I respected that, and I just waited by his side. I had things to do, but at the end of the day, it all paled in comparison to Jack’s daughter’s life. I didn’t have a lot of details, but I could only imagine what kind of shape she was in after her sedan had been T-boned by a semi.
I finally broke the silence. “Can I get you some water? Coffee?” The lazy pop music that was piped through the waiting room only added to the stench of death, and I needed to move.
Jack nodded with his face still in his hands. Sweat beaded at his brow and slid down his craggy cheek. I wanted to offer him more than a bottle of water from a vending machine, but right now, I didn’t have anything of comfort to suggest.
I stood and brushed off my jeans, and when I turned to ask if he’d like anything else, he’d closed his eyes. I wished my parents had come down here to hold his hand and wait this out instead of me. God help us both if the old man started to cry—I’d be out. I didn’t do emotions on women, and there was no way I could handle it on a man. I left him to his business and stepped out into the hall.
While every floor in this place was different, essentially, they were all the same. As I passed a handful of nurses, I opted to head back to the last vending machine I’d seen instead of searching for one up here. It would give me time to compose myself and a few minutes to breathe away from Jack. I circled my way around chairs and meandered down the hall to the alcove with walls of vending machines. And just before I stepped into the alcove, Miranda Adams caught my eye—Sarah’s little sister and my little brother’s long-term girlfriend.
There wasn’t much to her on a good day. She had the petite figure of a cheerleader with tight, toned, and tanned muscles, but I doubted she weighed a buck fifteen soaking wet. But what she lacked in size, she made up for in personality. Hers was bigger than life, and everyone loved her, especially my family. Yet, right now, she not only looked small, but she also looked lost—broken. Her eyes darted around the room as if she were searching for someone, and when she didn’t find what she was looking for, she wrapped her arms around her middle and stepped up to the intake desk.
Jack had always spoken highly of her. They were tight, even though she tried his patience. She was Daddy’s girl and had been going back as far as I could remember. Sarah was the one who always stood on the sideline, never engaging whereas Randi took the bull by the horns and held on for the full eight seconds.
But in the last twenty-four hours, that bond, that tether, that connection had snapped. Randi and Austin were somehow tied up in how the accident came to fruition, but my parents didn’t have the big picture, and I wasn’t asking Jack for clarification.
For the first time in all the years I’d known Randi—which had been her entire life—that spark was gone. Her flame had been extinguished. She didn’t just look worried; she appeared sick—grey.
I couldn’t hear what she said to the woman at the desk, but the lady never bothered to look up when she spoke. Not once did she even make eye contact with Randi. My brother’s girlfriend trembled as she leaned in closer and spoke again. Then she righted herself abruptly like the sting of a slap had crossed her cheek, and the frustration on her face was evident. And then she lost her composure. “Can you give me any update about my sister? Please!”
God, I felt sorry for her.
I glanced around for Austin, unable to believe he’d let Randi out of his sight. Those two were like a matched pair, but I didn’t see him. Even without a detailed account of what happened that landed Sarah here, I felt sorry for her sister. Anything she’d done hadn’t intentionally brought Sarah here; unfortunately, reckless teenagers cause reckless repercussions. My condolences wouldn’t be worth much, and I didn’t have any reassurance to offer because I didn’t know any more than she did—except which floor her sister and father were currently on.
The only thing the town knew for certain was that Sarah was in a bad way, and it wasn’t a given that she would pull through. I hoped like hell Randi didn’t have that burden to bear. She’d never be the same, and Jack would never forgive her. He’d all but blamed Randi yesterday, and Austin had stepped between them to keep the old man from hurting his girlfriend. It was best I stayed out of that drama.
I turned my back on Miranda in favor of the vending machines. I fed a few dollars into the machine and waited for the cans to roll out. I downed half of one as if it might provide some clarity or levity—it did neither. The sides of the bottle crunched as I swigged, and I thought about the irony of those sounds and the condition of the tin and wondered if Sarah had been aware of anything as it had happened.
When I left the vending area, Miranda was heading out the door. Her frustration was painted all over her body, and tears streamed down her cheeks. I didn’t plan to tell Jack I’d seen her, but I felt a twinge of regret at not stepping up to offer her support. But she had Austin, and Mom had sent me here for Jack.
It dawned on me that in all the years I’d known Randi Adams, I’d never seen her cry.
* * *
I’d stopped by the hospital again to get Jack to sign off on a finance agreement for equipment he needed for the irrigation project I’d been working on in his fields. He’d barely been at Cross Acres since the accident, and the hospital seemed to be the only place I could track him down with any success.
I found him in the same place I had the other times I’d come for one thing or another. I felt like I spent more time on the road to and from the Anston Medical than actually accomplishing what Jack was paying me to do. But right now, this was the only option. I either came up here, or irrigation stopped. And it wasn’t just Jack who was affected. His entire staff needed this monkey off their backs with the drought we were dealing with, I’d planned time away from my family’s farm—and Twin Creeks needed me just like Cross Acres did.
No sooner had I sat down and started to explain the paperwork to Jack than a nurse appeared at the double doors that never seemed to open, or they hadn’t when I’d been here.
“Mr. Adams?” There was no one else in the waiting room, so I wasn’t sure who she thought she might be talking to when she spoke into the air, not once glancing our direction.
Jack’s head turned quickly. The only word that described his expression was haggard. “Yeah?”
Her brows lifted a fraction of an inch, and a hint of a smile curled her thin lips. “Sarah’s coming around a bit if you’d like to come back to see her.” She stepped back to press her back against the door, holding it open for Jack.
Jack sprang to his feet, and before he got two steps toward the door, he turned back to me. “Charlie—”
“Go. We can do this later.” It would set me back a day, but I couldn’t argue that it was more important than his daughter coming out of a coma. That would have made me a selfish prick, and my mom raised me better than that.
He shook his head. “I was going to ask if you were coming.” His energy was infectious, and I could see the gleam of excitement in his eyes—or maybe that was just the hope of an answered prayer.
I didn’t know why he wanted me with him, but maybe he just needed moral support. To my knowledge, he hadn’t seen Sarah since the incident, and if he had, it had been brief, at best. The doctors had kept her in a medically induced coma to give her body the best shot at survival, and twice, they’d had to revive her when she’d flatlined. No one knew how long any of this would last, and the doctors refused to speculate.
After five days, Jack had started muttering about brain damage and the lingering effects of being under that long. He worried that she wouldn’t be able to do anything for herself, that her muscles would forget how to work. It was fear talking because Jack was alone. And it was irrational. But I guessed that was what happened when a parent faced losing their child. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. And while Jack faced losing Sarah, he’d all but run Randi off.
He didn’t want my advice or my input, so I didn’t offer it. Jack had made a mistake with Randi. She wasn’t to blame for the accident any more than Sarah was—it was just that, an accident. But he blamed Randi, and I wondered if he would ever forgive her. But even now, there wasn’t anything I could say regarding either situation. So, I did what I did best; I kept my mouth shut and followed him behind the metal doors.
I should have considered what I was doing before I’d blindly allowed myself to be led into Sarah’s new reality. I’d dealt with some pretty gruesome situations on ranches around town with cattle that had become prey, sick animals, traps, and everything in between, but there was something vastly different about an animal that had been mangled and a human.
Sarah was hooked up to every machine imaginable. Wires, cords, IVs, there was so much crap hanging from her body that it was almost hard to find her. And then I realized, I couldn’t find her because I didn’t recognize her. My stomach twisted and threatened to revolt at the carnage. There wasn’t an inch of visible skin that wasn’t marred by bruising, swelling, cuts, stitches, or some other injury I couldn’t even define. The girl looked dead. The only life in the room was the constant hum and beeps of the machines that forced her to breathe. And I had no idea what they had stuffed in her mouth, but it looked like a torture device. It would hurt like hell when they took the tape off her cheeks.
“She’s just starting to come out of the sedation,” the nurse warned as she pulled a sheet over the thin gown that covered Sarah’s lifeless body. “So she may not be very responsive. But you can say hello.” The nurse patted my shoulder as she walked by. “She can hear you. Don’t be afraid to talk.”
