Serendipity (5 page)

“I swear this wasn’t my fault, Sir.” I say defensively as John walks over to me.

I’ve had run-ins with the cops more times than I’d like to recall, and it’s always John O’Malley who seemed to show up. We used to have the best bonfires, Austin’s older brother would usually buy us a 12-pack and we would sit around and talk. Harmless fun but John ruined it for us every damn time.

I can’t even count how many times I was driven home in the back of his squad car. My dad couldn’t have cared less, but my mom always turned as white as a ghost and hugged me until I couldn’t breathe. I hated that I scared her that much but hell, I was a kid.

“Get in the car, boy. I’ll take you to the hospital and take your statement there. You can call your parents on the way if you’d like.” John takes me by the arm but I pull it away and walk to the passenger side. He shakes his head. “Oh no, you’re in the back. Ain’t nobody ridin’ up front with me.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” I rest my arms on the hood of the car. And why’s he talking to me like I’m a kid? I wish people around here would start taking me seriously.

John ignores me and opens the back door; I sigh in defeat and slide in. Riding in the back seat brings back so many memories. I miss my friends. Sure, some are still around but it’s not like we hang out anymore. I sit back in the hard, leather bound seats and pull out my phone. I’m dreading making this call because I know I’ll be blamed, regardless of what
actually
happened. John buckles his seat belt, adjusting it so that it fits around his large round stomach. He takes the CB radio out of the holster and calls into the central office.

I bite the inside of my cheek nervously and stare out the window as we speed down the dirt roads that I’ve traveled so many times before. Minutes later, we pull up outside the hospital. I wait impatiently as John takes his time coming around and opening the door for me.

Stepping aside, I let John go through the sliding double doors while I take my phone out of my pocket to call my parents. I pace back and forth with the phone to my ear, praying that my mom answers.

“Hello?” My dad says gruffly into the phone.

“Uh, hi, Dad.”

“Boy, where are you? You should have been back almost an hour ago. I called Sam and he said you had left already.”

“Well, there’s kind of been an accident—” he cuts me off before I can finish.

“What did you do now, Dean? You had one simple task and that was to go to Sam’s and come back.”

Of course he would think this is my fault, but then again so did Barbie. She definitely isn’t from around here—I can tell by her northern accent—but damn, I saw her nice, long legs when she stepped out of the car and those shorts… man. I wonder if she’s as sweet as she looks? I’d sure be willing to find out… just as long as she keeps her mouth shut.

“Dean?” My dad snaps into the phone, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Yeah Dad, I’m here. Listen, I’m at the hospital. John drove me because my truck had to be towed. The person I hit had to be brought in. I’ll be giving my statement and then I can leave, but do you think you and Mom could come pick me up?”

“I knew this was your fault. Please tell me you didn’t kill nobody?”

I roll my eyes. “No Dad, I didn’t kill anyone. I think she’s going to be fine but she had to be brought in. Her head was bleed—”

He interrupts me once again. “You hit a girl? Dammit, Dean!” He covers the phone and I can hear him talking to my mom. She gasps loudly, typical of my mom to overreact. “We’ll be up there soon. Stay with John.”

“Yes, s—” My dad hangs up before I can respond. I slide my phone into my pocket and walk into the hospital. I spot John and he pats the empty seat beside him.

“I take it that was your folks?” He asks as he pulls small notepad from the pocket of his shirt.

“Yeah, they don’t seem too happy. Can we just get this over with before they get here, please?”

He pulls a pen out of his pocket and clicks it a couple of times, before starting to write down my basic information. It’s sad that John can fill in all of these details without even asking me.

No sooner do I finish giving my statement when my parents walk in. I look up when the sliding doors open and my mom frantically runs in, halts and looks in all directions. When she spots me, she doesn’t waste any time getting to me and wrapping me in a hug. I look over her shoulder to see my dad taking his time, a grim expression on his face.

“Dean, are you okay?” She cups my cheeks and looks me up and down.

I shrug out of her grasp. “I’m fine, Ma. Didn’t Dad tell you that I just had to give my statement?”

She shakes her head no and straightens to give my dad a death glare. He shrugs his shoulders and walks around her to greet John. They shake hands and talk as if it’s just a normal day.

We’re interrupted by a nurse calling for John. My heart thuds in my chest. Barbie.

“Hi, Sheriff O’Malley, we have the patient in triage. She’s slightly out of it. We gave her some medication to help with the pain, but I think you’ll be okay to take her statement. We’re going to release her if her test results come back okay.” She eyes him up and down with a satisfied smile. They probably know each other. Hell, we pretty much all know each other. It’s the curse of living in a small town.

John grunts his answer and excuses himself before following the nurse. I start off towards the exit, but my mom grabs my elbow. “Where do you think you’re going?”

My brows furrow. “We can go home now. I gave my statement to John, and he said he’ll call and keep us updated.”

“Oh no you don’t, son. We’re staying until this girl is released. I want to make sure everything is okay.” She pulls me back to the waiting area. I look at my dad and silently plead for help. I want nothing more than to go home, shower and go to bed. But he just shakes his head at me and picks up a magazine as if he has nothing better to do.

Pain emanates through my body. I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mac truck but I couldn’t be so lucky. Instead I was hit by some asshole in a sad excuse for a truck.

“Ms. Andrews?”

I pry my eyes open when I hear my name being called. I look up to see a nurse pulling back the curtain to my bay, an officer by her side. A man with the large round pot belly waddles in and pulls a chair up next to my bed. I wince when I try to move.

“Just stay where you are. You’ve been given some medication to help with the pain but it’s probably wearing off. I’m afraid we can’t give you anymore just yet. We need you awake and alert.”

I roll my eyes and shift in the bed. The thin fabric of the blanket scratches my bare legs. The nurse notices me shivering and pulls the blanket up, tucking it under my chin.

The officer flips through the pages of his small notepad and starts writing. When he looks at me, his dark brown eyes look like melted chocolate and my stomach growls. I place my IV free hand over my stomach and groan.

The nurse presses some buttons on the machine next to me. “Don’t worry, after Sheriff O’Malley takes your statement, we’ll bring some food for you,” she assures me, before leaving the room, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to give him my statement. Basically, it went like this—I went to get food, and was hit by the guy with the annoying voice—done! Hell, they all had annoying voices here but his is especially annoying.

As promised, I was brought a tray of food, but none of it was appetizing. I’d rather gnaw off my hand then eat the piece of rubber they call ‘chicken’ placed in front of me.

I was finishing the last of the Jell-O when the doctor walks in with a nurse by his side. She is young, probably around my age, and looks just like a girl I went to high school with.

“Ms. Andrews?” The doctor greets me with a southern drawl. “We’ve gone over your x-rays and labs, and everything seems to be fine.” He leans against the bed railing and flips through my chart. “We’re getting your discharge papers together now. Is there anyone you’d like us to call to pick you up?”

Shit! What am I supposed to do now? My mom is going to freak when I call her, but never mind that. I’m supposed to start work in two days and I still have to call the insurance company and get a new rental. The doctor must see the panic on my face, he closes my chart and rests his hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. You have some stitches that will need to be taken out in about a week. You also have a hairline wrist fracture, which is why you have the brace. That will have to stay on for at least a month.” I glance down at my covered wrist and let out a frustrated breath. “So… is there someone you’d like us to call to come and pick you up?”

“No. I just moved here so I’m staying at the Kingston Suites. I start work on Monday so I need to get back there.” I sit up and look for my belongings. I hope they got everything out of the car. I need my things, and go back to the hotel and sleep this off.

“Ms. Andrews, though your injuries aren’t extensive, I’d like you to stay off your feet until we can see you again. You’ll probably experience some headaches so I’ve prescribed some medication and also another one for the pain, but if your vision blurs or if the headaches persist I’ll need to see you right away.” He takes a business card out of his pocket, “I’m just an on-call physician. My practice is in the building next to the hospital. I’d like to see you for a follow-up appointment and to take the stitches out a week from Monday. The discharge nurse will make your appointment. I hope there is someone that is able to stay with you. You will probably need to be woken up throughout the night just to make sure everything is okay.”

“Yes, I have someone to help me,” I lie. There’s no way I’m staying a few nights in the hospital.

He reaches out to shake my hand. “Perfect. Take care, Ms. Andrews and we’ll see you soon.” I shake his hand weekly and give him a faint nod.

Nine days. Nine days of feeling miserable. Nine days of not doing what I want. Nine days of…

As if on cue, another nurse walks in with a clipboard and a pen. This small space is entirely too small for the four of us and I’m starting to feel claustrophobic.

The nurse begins going over the after care for my stitches but I tune her out. I sign the discharge papers and fold them in half, resting them on my stomach. The doctor pats me on my hand before he leaves. “One week, Ms. Andrews, I expect to see you in my office.” The discharge nurse follows him out and I feel as if I can breathe again.

There is no way that I’m going to miss my first week of work. For starters, Mr. Keiser is going to be pissed! Okay, he won’t be but I am. There is no way I’m going to be able to sit around and do nothing for an entire week.

The nurse finishes unhooking me from the machine, placing a bandage where the IV was placed in crook of my elbow.

“Is my cab here yet?” I ask, but she doesn’t respond. I draw a breath and release it before asking again. “Has my cab arrived yet?”

“No,” is all she says and finishes unhooking the IV bag, tossing it in to the nearby garbage.

No? What the hell? It’s been over an hour since they said they were going to call me a cab. The sterile smell of the hospital is starting to make me feel nauseous. I need a comfortable bed, and some real food.

“Okay, well do you know how much longer it’s going to be?”

She has a look in her eyes that says I’m not going to like her answer. She sits on the edge of the bed and pushes up the long sleeves of the shirt that she wears under her scrubs.

“Now before you freak out, I need to tell you that you’re going to be in very good hands.”

I don’t think I like where she’s going with this.

“The Montgomery’s have offered to take you home. Mrs. Montgomery overheard Dr. Baylor talking about your injuries. They feel horrible about the accident and they know you shouldn’t be alone. This is only temporary, until your appointment. Of course you can refuse but I’m not going to be the one to tell Mrs. Montgomery—she’s a force to be reckoned with.” I can see the fear in her eyes just from thinking about it.

I look at her in shock. Who in the hell are these people and what gives them the right to tell the hospital that I’m going home with them. Like hell I am! “You bet your ass I’ll tell this woman I’m not going with them. I need to get back to my hotel, take a shower and get in some clean clothes. I can deal with the headaches, I’ll be fine.” I assure her but I can tell she’s not buying it.