by Jack Parker
Cynthia had finished her pizza by the time the room settled down again. Brittney served them both more coffee. Steve had been mostly silent, drinking his coffee as if on remote control.
"I believe I'd like to go see the babies in the nursery," Cynthia remarked.
"We should stay here, so the doctor will know where to find us when Meaghan comes out of surgery," Steve said, trying to be reasonable.
"Nonsense!" Cynthia replied. "They said it would take hours, and we'll be right here in the hospital." She turned to Amy. "I'll give you my phone number and you can call me if they come looking for us." She turned back to her husband, a pleading look in her eyes. "That will work, won't it? I would so like to see the babies right now, God's little miracles and an affirmation of life."
Steve's face relaxed into a wan smile. "When you put it like that, how can I say 'no'?"
Amy dug a pen out of her purse and pulled a napkin closer. "I'll be happy to call you, what's your number?"
Cynthia recited the number and watched as Amy wrote it down. "What is that on your hand, Amy? That's not a tattoo, is it?" Her voice contained more than a hint of scorn.
Amy glanced at the offending hand and laughed. "No, it's just where they stamped my hand when I left the game. I'd left my umbrella in the car and had to go get it when it started sprinkling. I'll watch your purse for you if you like; that way you don't have to bother with it."
Cynthia smiled at the simple explanation. "Well then, that's all right, isn't it? It will wash off. Thank you Dear, it would be nice not to have to tote that heavy purse with me, and I know you'll take good care of it."
Steve and Cynthia left the waiting room and immediately everyone began discussing what 'internal injuries' might mean and just how serious they might be. Jennifer began cleaning up, throwing pizza boxes and soda cans in the trash. Gracie reminded her to use the recycle bins where possible. Brittney wanted to make another pot of coffee but couldn't figure out how so Cheryl showed her. Many of them pulled out phone or laptops and posted the news on FaceBook. Meaghan wasn't out of the woods yet and they were worried about her.
Amy stood up and walked away from the table carrying three purses.
"Amy, what in the world are you doing?" asked Gracie.
"Gotta go potty," Amy replied. "And I promised Mrs. Pruitt I'd watch her purse. I forgot all about having Meaghan's too, guess I'd better give it to her when she gets back."
"Why don't you just leave them here?" Gracie wanted to know. "Nobody will bother them."
Amy shook her head, a stubborn look on her face. "I promised, and that makes me responsible," she insisted.
No sooner had she left than a police officer entered the room. "I'm Officer Simon," he announced. "I'm looking for Amy Jones, the nurse downstairs said she might be here."
"She just left for the ladies' room," Gracie said. "Why don't you sit down and wait, I'm sure she'll be back in a couple minutes."
The policeman looked around and spied the coffeepot, went over and helped himself to a cup. He sat at the table nearest the door and sipped at his coffee. Amy came in a few minutes later and stopped cold when she saw the cop. Then she laughed at herself and handed the three bags to Gracie and sat down with the officer.
"I knew someone would want to talk to me," she said.
He appraised her critically, trying to get a good measure of her attitude. "You're Amy Jones?" he asked.
She nodded. "I told the officer at the scene that it was all my fault. I guess I'm in big trouble, huh?"
He asked her to go through the events leading up to the crash and she did so far more lucidly and accurately this time, though she was clearly nervous and expected the worst. She still seemed to take sole responsibility for what had happened.
The cop made notes, then spent a minute going over them. "The EMTs said the airbag didn't deploy, is that correct?"
Amy frowned in thought for a moment and said, "You know, now that you mention it I didn't see the airbag. It was really dark, but I'd left my car pointed at hers so I could use the headlights to help see. I tried to open the door, but it was locked. I banged on the window and yelled at her to wake up, but she didn't. And I remember wondering if she'd hit her head on the steering wheel or something, and I wouldn't have thought that if the airbag had been there."
Officer Simon shrugged and put his notebook back in his pocket, took another sip of coffee. "They're not perfect," he said. "Sometimes they don't go off like they're supposed to."
Tyler approached the table. "Officer, I think I should tell you that Meaghan had car trouble today at lunch."
The policeman gestured to Tyler to sit down. "What kind of car trouble?"
"It wouldn't start," Tyler told him. He gestured over his shoulder and added, "Jake fixed it for her. But I thought maybe it could have caused more trouble and might've, uh, what's the word, contributed to the accident."
Officer Simon looked in the direction of Tyler's gesture. "Which one of you is Jake?"
Jake stood and walked over to join them, but remained standing. "I am, sir. Jake Salazar. It was just a loose battery cable, and I tightened the bolts, that's all."
"Nuts," the officer automatically corrected. Someone in the back of the room snickered.
"I saw him do it," Allison called from where she sat. "The battery's in the trunk of that car, he couldn't have done anything else."
"Me, too," Shaun put in.
"I was there too," Kelly said. "He's telling the truth."
"Okay, got it." The cop pulled his notebook back out to add this information. "I'll check into it. I've got your phone number if I have any more questions. Thank you, Miss Jones."
Amy looked surprised. "You're not going to arrest me?"
He smiled and said, "Not unless I find out it wasn't just an unfortunate accident."
He looked at the room full of students. "I hope your friend is okay," he said.
CHAPTER 40
After lunch Saturday Shawna picked up Gracie and Cheryl so they could visit Meaghan in the hospital. The rain was gone and the sun was not only shining brightly, but had warmed the air a little. They took it as an omen that Meaghan would recover from her injuries and have brighter days ahead.
"We can't stay long," Cheryl said.
"I'm surprised they'll let us see her at all," Shawna said.
"We'll just stay a couple of minutes," Gracie assured them. "Say 'hello' and tell her we miss her and hope she's home soon."
"The doctor told us last night that she's all banged up and bruised, so we should be prepared so we don't say something like, 'Oh my God you look awful!'," Cheryl cautioned.
"She probably feels awful," Shawna said.
"They've probably got her so doped up she doesn't feel much of anything," Gracie said with hope in her voice.
"They might not have told her how badly she's hurt," Shawna suggested. "You know, so she won't worry."
"We can't tell her either because we don't know exactly what's wrong," Gracie reminded them. "The doctor clearly didn't want to say too much in front of us last night. He probably didn't want to worry us."
"It was nice of her parents to insist that he tell us, though," Cheryl said.
"That saved them from having to repeat it to us when they really needed to go see their daughter," Gracie said. "Though I think maybe the doc kept something back from us. I happened to glance out the window and saw the three of them standing there in the hall, talking."
"Maybe he was just cautioning them that she wouldn't look very good," Shawna suggested.
"Or maybe there was something he just didn't think her friends really needed to know," Cheryl said.
"Well, hopefully it wasn't anything serious," Gracie said, trying to be the optimist.
A few minutes later they cautiously walked into Meaghan's hospital room. Meaghan was asleep and her mother was sitting in a recliner, nodding off over her open Bible.
Gracie stepped over to the bed and wrapped her hands around Meaghan's hand, the one without the IV. "Meagha
n, this is Gracie," she said softly. "Shawna and Cheryl are here too. We just wanted you to know we care about you, and we hope you feel better soon."
Cynthia looked up at the words. "Why, hello there, young lady," she said.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Pruitt," Gracie said. "I didn't mean to disturb you." She noticed the woman was still wearing the same pantsuit; she'd probably been there all night.
Cynthia stretched and stood up. "Nonsense! I'm always glad to see Meaghan's friends. I was just reading my scriptures and must've nodded off." She walked to the bed and peered down at her daughter, brushing a strand of hair from the girl's face.
"How is she doing?" Shawna asked.
"Better than we'd hoped, thank the good Lord," Cynthia replied. "She wakes up every now and then, but she doesn't always make a lot of sense. The pain medication, you know."
The three girls nodded. "I hope she doesn't remember what happened," Cheryl said.
"She knows she had an accident, but I don't talk about it," Cynthia said. "I just tell her she's in the hospital and everything will be all right. I read the Bible to her." She paused to squeeze her eyes shut as if trying to block out her pain. "There really isn't anything else I can do for her right now."
"You're here for her, and she appreciates that," Shawna said.
"Have you had anything to eat?" Gracie asked. "We could stay with her for awhile if you'd like to go get something."
Cynthia ran a hand through her hair, a rueful smile on her face. "I washed my face this morning but I must look a mess. One of the ladies from the church is coming up this afternoon so I can go home to shower and change. But I'll come right back, I can always sleep in the chair. My husband is trying to get his business affairs cleaned up so he can be here this evening. I'm sorry, I'm rambling! Thank you, yes, it's nice of you to offer and I would like a bite to eat. Maybe walk around a few minutes and stretch my legs. That's very kind of you."
Cynthia gathered up her purse, leaned over to kiss her daughter gently on the cheek, and left the room. Shawna laid the woman's Bible aside and perched on the edge of the recliner while Gracie and Cheryl took up stations leaning against the wall. They stared at Meaghan and each other for a few minutes, not knowing what to say.
Finally Shawna asked, "Why'd you ask if she remembered the wreck?"
"Because I wouldn't want to wake up and remember something that horrible," Cheryl replied. "And besides, I couldn't really think of anything else to say."
"I don't think it was a dumb question," Gracie said. "I wouldn't want to remember it, either." She shuddered at the thought of how terrifying it must've been.
Meaghan stirred in the bed and opened her eyes. "Where's Mom?" Her voice was weak, and a little slurred.
Gracie ran to the bed and sat on the edge, careful not to jostle the patient. "It's Gracie, Meaghan. Your mother needed to eat something, so we're staying with you for a little bit. How do you feel?"
Meaghan's eyes moved left and right to take in the presence of Shawna and Cheryl. "I remember," she said.
Gracie smiled and squeezed Meaghan's hand. "That's right, we said 'hi' when we came in. I wasn't sure if you were asleep or not."
Meaghan shut her eyes and her face contorted as if in pain. "No, remember the car," she insisted.
Gracie darted a helpless look at Shawna, since Cheryl was behind her. "You had an accident, but you're in the hospital now and you're going to be fine."
"Remember flying," Meaghan said. The combination of pain and pain-killers kept her mind from forming full sentences. "Car flying through the air."
Cheryl had moved to the bed and now patted Meaghan's shoulder. "Don't think about it; you're safe."
"Smashed," Meaghan murmured.
"Hey, don't worry about the car – you were going to sell it, anyway!" Gracie said with a quiet laugh.
"Into tree," Meaghan added. "Hood flew up. Door open, but couldn't get out."
Shawna joined them on the other side of the bed, stroking Meaghan's hair in an attempt to comfort her. "It's just a bad dream," she said. "Forget all about it, and it'll go away."
Gracie was decidedly uncomfortable with this conversation. "How do you feel, Meaghan?"
Meaghan looked vague as she thought about that. "Stomach hurts," she answered.
"Just lie still, and it'll be okay," Gracie said. Even to herself she thought that sounded lame.
"Do you want me to call the nurse?" Shawna asked.
Meaghan moved her head in a vague negative response. "Always takes temperature. Tired."
"I don't blame you!" Cheryl said. "I hate having my temp taken, too."
"Do you want us to let you rest?" Gracie asked.
"Tired of nurse," Meaghan explained.
The three friends laughed at that. Meaghan probably woke up every time the nurse came in, and they could see how she'd be tired of what seemed like constant interruption.
"Hey, we won the game," Shawna said, changing the subject to something happier.
"Jake did good," Meaghan said.
"He sure did," Cheryl said. "He was here last night, but they wouldn't let us see you."
Meaghan smiled and seemed to relax a little. "Wanna see Jake."
"I'm sure he wants to see you, too," Gracie told her. "I'll text him to let him know you're awake and receiving visitors, how about that?"
"Uh-huh," Meaghan muttered. Her eyes drifted closed and her breathing evened out as the drugs pulled her back into sleep.
"You rest, and get well," Gracie said softly, releasing her hand. "We'll all miss you at school."
They returned to their previous places and stared uncomfortably around the room for a few minutes. None of them seemed to know what to say, especially as they weren't sure whether Meaghan was truly asleep or not. The nurse bustled in, all cold efficiency to check on the patient, and instructed them to step into the hallway. Even there they felt constrained to be quiet and not discuss the situation. Cynthia came back just as the nurse left the room. She looked perkier for having eaten and gotten a little exercise; she thanked them for watching over Meaghan, hugged them all, and entered the room.
The girls decided to get some lunch themselves, so Shawna drove to their favorite place. Once they sat down with their order and got the sandwiches sorted out they began to talk.
"I didn't think Meaghan really looked too bad," Shawna said.
"No, but she didn't sound too good, either," Cheryl said.
"Well, what do you expect?" Gracie asked. "They've got her doped up on pain meds, how's she supposed to sound?"
"But she said she still hurt," Shawna reminded them.
"Even in a hospital there's such a thing as too much pain medication," Gracie explained. "And with whatever they've giving her she might not know whether she really hurts or not. Her mother said she didn't always make sense, I'm not sure she knows much of what's happening to her."
"Speaking of pills," Cheryl began. "Does anyone know what Tramadol is?"
Shawna and Gracie shook their heads in response so they wouldn't talk with their mouths full.
Cheryl crunched a potato chip and then said, "I meant to tell you guys last night, but between the game and Meaghan's accident I forgot."
"Is that some kind of medicine?" Shawna asked.
"Yeah, pills," Cheryl said. "I saw a bottle of them in Amy's backpack yesterday during Home Ec. I thought it was weird, she hasn't said anything about being sick."
Gracie picked up her phone and began searching the internet.
"Maybe they weren't hers," Shawna said. "Someone could've put the bottle in the wrong backpack by mistake."
Cheryl and Gracie just stared at Shawna in disbelief. Shawna shrugged as if to say it was possible.
"Tramadol is for pain," Gracie summarized what she'd found. "Particularly people with chronic pain, like arthritis. This says it can be addictive."
"As it so happens, they weren't hers," Cheryl told them, using an overly-dramatic tone of voice.
The other two girls gave her
a look indicating they were waiting for the answer.
"Okay, spoil my surprise, don't ask," Cheryl said, miffed. "The label said 'Anne Jones', I suppose that's her mother."
Shawna gave them a defiant look. "It's possible her mother put the bottle somewhere and it fell into Amy's backpack. But somehow I doubt it. Maybe Amy had a headache or something, and since the pills were so handy she decided to try them. I know what you guys are gonna say, but Amy is the last person I would suspect of taking pills to get high."
"I wouldn't have thought so, either," Gracie admitted.
"Nor me," Cheryl said. "But if her mom's got the stuff sitting around – and she's taking them all the time – it would be easy for Amy to try one and decide she wanted more. It was a big bottle, all dusty inside so I couldn't see how many were left. But she sure grabbed it up quick before I had a chance to hand it to her."
"Okay, I admit that sounds suspicious," Shawna said. "And I hate to say it, but what if she'd taken one of those pills before she started home from the game last night?"
They stared at each other as they considered the possibility and the consequences.
"That could explain why she misjudged the distance and ran into Meaghan's car," Cheryl said.
"The rain and the dark wouldn't have helped," Gracie allowed.
"Should we tell the police?" Shawna asked. "You could call your buddy Ken."
"Ken's a homicide detective," Gracie replied. "And I really, really hope he doesn't need to get involved with this accident. But I don't think it matters."
"Why not?" Cheryl asked.
"Because we can't prove anything," Gracie pointed out.
"But I could tell them I saw her with the pills," Cheryl insisted.
"You didn't pick up the bottle, or open it; you don't really know what was in that bottle," Gracie spelled it out. "You didn't actually see her take one of them. And the police didn't ask for a blood test so there is no way to prove her driving was chemically impaired at the time of the accident."
"Okay, okay, points taken," Cheryl said with a laugh.
"We really have had a lot of accidents around the school lately," Shawna mused. "Well, not in the building, but to people connected to it."