by Julie Cannon
Matt had no idea, and it hurt her head and her heart to think about it. As she turned around and headed back to her room, she formulated a plan of how she would talk to Kelly about it. They had spent wonderful days exploring the island and intimate nights discovering hidden desires and sinful pleasures. She knew these two weeks were just an engineered diversion from everyday life, one that had a definite conclusion. But, right or wrong, Matt wasn’t ready for it to end.
“Matt!” Becca exclaimed, running toward her the minute she stepped in the room. “Where have you been? Is your phone on?”
Matt’s heart began to race. She’d never seen Becca this upset. “What’s going on?” she asked, reaching for her phone. Both her ringer and vibration were in the Off position.
“You need to call Jordan’s camp right away.”
A sense of déjà vu spread over Matt. Why would the camp be calling her unless something had happened to him?
“What is it? What happened?” Matt asked, frantically searching for the number in her contacts.
“They wouldn’t tell me, but when they couldn’t get ahold of you, they called me as the backup contact.” After an eternity, Matt found the number and hit the dial button.
“This is Mattingly Parker.” Her voice was much calmer than she felt. “I got a message you were trying to contact me. Is my son Jordan all right? He’s in the nine-and-ten-year-old class. Has something happened to him?” Matt knew she was asking question after question, not giving the man on the other end of the line time to answer any of them.
The world started to spin, and Matt had to sit down on the couch behind her. She listened, then said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Mattie, what is it? You’re scaring us.” Becca placed her hand on Matt’s forearm.
“Jordan’s in the hospital. I have to go.”
“What?” Sandra asked, sitting down beside her on the couch. “Mattie, what happened?”
“I’m not sure,” Matt said as she jumped up and headed toward her room to pack. “It was the camp director. Something about a zipline and crashing into a tree.” Matt had only heard bits and pieces of the explanation after the director of the camp told her about the accident.
“Is he okay?”
“He’s un…he’s unconscious,” Matt stuttered. The thought of her son lying on the ground broken and bleeding while she was thousands of miles away caused a gaping hole in her stomach.
“Oh, my God, is he going to be all right?” Becca asked again.
“I have no fucking idea,” Matt said sharply. Adrenaline shot through her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“It’s okay,” Becca said, reaching out and grasping Matt’s hand.
“The director said he was unconscious when the ambulance came. The hospital will call me when he gets there. Where is my fucking passport?” Matt yanked open the drawers on the dresser.
“You get packed, and I’ll call the airline,” Becca said.
Matt’s heart was pounding as she tossed her suitcase onto the bed, her thoughts centered around her son. The day he was born, his first steps, waving good-bye to Andrea as she walked through the security screening line, standing at the graveside as they lowered his mother into the ground. Matt had explained what was going to happen in terms a three-year-old could understand, but it had been apparent he really didn’t understand. He did know that it was something serious, and he had stood quietly beside Matt, holding tightly to her hand. Andrea would have been proud of her little man when he said thank you to the color-guard soldier that had presented him the flag that had been draped over his mother’s coffin.
Matt’s knees threatened to buckle, and she sat down hard on the bed. “I can’t lose him too.”
Sandra sat down beside her and squeezed her hand. “He’s a tough kid. Whatever it is, he’ll pull through.”
“If I lose him…”
“You won’t.” Sandra’s voice was stern. “Don’t think like that. Do you know where they took him?”
Matt squinted, trying to remember the name of the hospital the director said they were transporting him. “Western Regional, I think. Jesus, he’s all alone.” Matt sobbed.
“He knows you’re with him,” Sandra said.
“I got you on the last seat on the seven-fifteen flight,” Becca said from the doorway. She looked at her watch. “Get your stuff together. Take only what you need. We’ll bring the rest. You connect in Miami, and I have a car waiting for you in Phoenix. It’ll drive you directly to the hospital.”
Matt’s phone rang, and all three of them jumped, startled by the sound. Matt’s hand shook as she pressed the Accept icon on the screen. She pushed the speaker icon right after.
Matt’s pulse raced as the nurse told her about Jordan’s condition. Words like head trauma, concussion, and intracranial bleed made her stomach heave. “Pull it together, Mattingly,” she mumbled to herself.
“I’m out of the country,” Matt said, after answering what seemed like a thousand questions from the nurse. “I can’t get there until…” she looked at Becca.
“Seven a.m.”
“Seven a.m. tomorrow morning.” Suddenly it occurred to Matt that she’d be on a plane for hours not knowing what was going on with her son.
“I’m sorry,” Matt said. “What was your name again?” Matt made the motion of writing something down, and Becca dashed out of the room. She came back an instant later with a pen and a tour brochure. Matt wrote down the nurse’s name and phone number.
“I’ll be on a plane, so I need to give medical power of attorney to Sandra Howser.”
Sandra nodded her understanding.
“I can’t sign any form,” Matt told the nurse. “But I can send you something in writing as soon as I hang up. She has my authority for any and all medical decisions until I get there. Is that clear?” It was a drastic measure, but she had no alternative.
“He’ll be okay,” Sandra said after Matt hung up.
Matt turned and looked at Becca, then settled on Sandra. “I said you because you’re the tough-as-nails lawyer, but I want both of you to decide whatever he needs.” Matt realized she wasn’t making much sense, but her friends knew what she meant and what she would want.
“Log into your email when you get on the plane,” Sandra said. “We’ll keep in touch that way.” The ability to send or receive email while Matt was over the Atlantic was almost nonexistent, but it was the only way they could communicate.
“Get dressed,” Becca told Matt in her no-nonsense voice. “You have a flight to catch.”
✥ ✥ ✥
“Holy Christ.” Becca sighed as she watched from the observation deck as Matt’s plane roared down the runway. They were standing close, their shoulders touching. “Please let her get there in time.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” Sandra put her arm around Becca’s shoulders. “I don’t want to have to—”
“Hey,” Becca said. “We know what Mattie wants, and we’ll make any decisions together.”
Matt’s hands had been shaking so bad she could barely sign the brief, yet effective medical power of attorney Sandra had written on a piece of hotel stationery.
They watched the plane until it disappeared into the horizon.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Ma’am, you need to turn off your phone.”
Matt bit back her retort. The flight attendant was only doing his job, but this was her lifeline to Jordan, and turning it off was much too close to turning off everything that was keeping her son alive.
The doctor had called as they were approaching the security screening line. Jordan was in a medically induced coma, giving his brain a chance to rest. He was on a ventilator to help him breathe so his body could focus on healing. This news had almost brought Matt to her knees.
She put her phone in airplane mode and didn’t even try to stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks as the plane taxied down the runway.
It felt like an eternity
before Matt heard the familiar ding indicating it was safe to use electronic devices.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered under her breath, impatient for her phone to connect with the plane’s network. The huge man to her left glanced her way, obviously perturbed. Too fucking bad. If he and the woman sitting next to the window weren’t sixty pounds overweight, maybe he’d be more comfortable squeezed into the middle seat. It was clear who wore the pants in that relationship.
Six new messages lit up, all from Becca and all with the header “No New News.” Matt opened them and read the short messages of encouragement from her two best friends. She emailed back her thanks and tried not to squeeze the life out of her phone while she waited for any news.
“Would you please stop fidgeting,” the man beside her said indignantly, as if this was his personal aircraft. He had an accent Matt didn’t recognize and bad breath.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I just got word that my nine-year-old son is in a coma in Phoenix. This is the last open seat for three days, and if I want to fidget, as you called it, I will. Either get over it or not. I don’t really care.”
Matt had no idea where her quiet, yet strong outburst came from, but by the look on the man’s face, she’d made her point. His wife muttered something about rude just before Matt put on her noise-cancelling headphones, shutting out the world around her.
The flight was smooth but made excruciatingly longer by her constant checking of her phone for a new email from Becca. Nothing but several “No News.” Finally one popped up with the heading “Update.” Matt felt liked she was going to be sick as she opened it.
Mattie,
Spoke with the doctor. No change, which at this point is a good sign. It means no additional swelling in his brain and his vitals are good. They flew him to Phoenix Children’s Hospital. He’s in ICU. I know you wouldn’t want Cynthia and Harrison there without you, so I called Diane Hecker to go sit with him. I know she was his favorite teacher and a friend of yours, and you wouldn’t want him to be alone. She’s on her way and will give him your love the minute she gets there.
Matt had become good friends with Diane after Jordan had been in her class in the second grade. Matt’s stomach clenched. She glanced at her watch. She’d been in the air almost three hours. She hoped Diane was holding her son’s hand right now.
Matt shifted in her seat and a muscle rebelled. She tried to get comfortable, but every time she moved, she was anything but. Oh my God, Matt thought, suddenly remembering. Kelly. She’d torn out of the resort and off the island without giving her a single thought. Matt hit Reply, thanking them for thinking about Diane. Matt’s mind was on nothing but her son. She ended her note by saying, if they ran into Kelly, to tell her she was sorry for not saying good-bye.
The flight was agonizingly long and the connecting one even longer. If Matt had a dollar for each time she checked her email, she probably could have paid for this trip. She was the first out of her seat when the captain turned off the seat-belt sign. She grabbed her bag from the overhead compartment. Fellow passengers clogged the aisle, and she gritted her teeth to keep from yelling at them to hurry the fuck up and get out.
Finally free of the jetway, she ran through the terminal, not caring who stared at her. She’d packed only her toiletries and her laptop, so she bypassed baggage claim and ran out to the curb. A tall man in a black suit was standing in front of a black sedan, holding a sign with her name on it. When she approached, he quickly opened the rear passenger door and hustled around and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Good morning, Ms. Parker. I’m Eric, and I’ll get you to the hospital as quick as I can.”
True to his word, they pulled into the front drive ten minutes later.
Matt reached for her bag to get her wallet.
“No need, ma’am. Everything is taken care of.”
Eric hurried to her door and offered his hand to help her out of the car.
“Thank you,” Matt managed to say.
“My prayers are with you and your family ma’am,” he said, causing Matt to stop just before she went inside.
“Thank you, Eric. For everything.”
Matt stopped by the front desk just long enough to ask the location of the intensive-care unit. She didn’t bother waiting for the elevator but bolted up the stairs two at a time. She pulled open the heavy door with a large white 8 painted in the center.
Her lungs were thick with tension, and she took several deep breaths as she approached the main nurses’ desk. A middle-aged woman dressed in light-blue scrubs with cartoon giraffes on them looked up.
“I’m Mattingly Parker. My son is Jordan Parker.”
“Yes, Ms. Parker. We’ve been expecting you. Come with me.” She rose from her chair and walked around the large desk cluttered with papers, a stethoscope, and rolls of medical tape. “My name is Kathy, and I’ve been Jordan’s nurse on the night shift.”
Matt relaxed at the confident tone in the woman’s voice as she gave Matt the rundown on Jordan’s condition.
“He’s stable, but he’s still in a medically induced coma. He’s off the ventilator and is getting oxygen to help him breathe,” she said quietly.
Matt’s stomach tightened. This was not good. It had been over twenty-four hours since the accident, and the longer he was in a coma, the longer his recovery would take.
“He has some bruising around his eyes and the side of his head. His cheek has stitches, but we had an excellent plastic surgeon work on him. He looks a little rough now, but once the swelling goes down, the scars will barely be noticeable. He has a monitor in his head that measures the pressure in his brain.” She pointed to her own head. “There is some swelling, though, and the doctor is keeping a close eye on it.”
Matt was anxious to be with Jordan, but she knew Kathy was preparing her for what she’d see when she parted the curtain that filled the doorway.
“Thank you. Anything else I should know?” Like when will he wake up, talk, walk again, have a family of his own, grow old?
“Your friend Ms. Hecker has been with him since he was admitted. She wouldn’t leave, not even to get a cup of coffee.”
Relief and gratitude swept through Matt. She’d been worried sick that Jordan would wake up alone, confused and frightened.
“Thank you, Kathy, and thank you for taking good care of him.” Matt braced herself, then pushed aside the curtain.
The lights were low, the morning sun coming through the window. Diane was curled up in a chair that was extended almost flat. Matt murmured a silent thank you.
Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Jordan lying on crisp white sheets, covered with a pale-blue blanket. His head was bandaged in white gauze, an odd-looking tube protruding from the right side of his head. His eyes were swollen almost shut, and the bruising was more than she expected. An oxygen mask on his face partially obscured the white bandage that covered most of his left cheek. He had several cuts on his chin that would heal on their own. The rise and fall of his chest reassured Matt that her son was still breathing, the blip of the heart monitor steady.
He looked so small in the big bed that Matt couldn’t help but start to cry. She must have made noise, because Diane sat up quickly, first looking at Jordan, then at her.
“Oh my God, Matt. You’re here.” She wrapped her in a warm embrace.
Matt wanted to collapse from relief, but the end was far from over.
“Diane, I can’t thank you enough for being here. I don’t know what I’d have—”
“Hush,” Diane said, squeezing her one more time before letting her go. “No thanks are necessary. I’m glad Becca called me. I absolutely adore Jordan, and there was no question I’d come.” She took Matt’s hand and led her to the chair on the opposite side of the bed. “Come sit down and talk to him. He’ll know you’re here.”
Matt didn’t sit but took his hand and leaned over and kissed his uninjured cheek.
“Jordan, Mom’s here.”
“Kelly?”
She was sitting on a lounge chair staring across the water. She’d come out to the beach early this morning hoping to see Matt. Why, she didn’t know. Matt had never arrived for dinner, and after an hour, and two phone calls, Kelly had returned to her room. She ordered room service, and now the practically untouched tray was sitting in the hall waiting to be picked up.
She’d alternated between hurt, then anger, and back to hurt again all evening. Wasn’t she worth at least a phone call? Or, at the very minimum, an impersonal text? She hadn’t been stood up since the Valentine’s Day dance in tenth grade. She didn’t like how it made her feel then and certainly didn’t now. “What a selfish coward” was one of the many phrases she’d muttered most of the night while thinking about how inconsiderate Matt was. Their relationship wasn’t a forever thing, but she was more than just a booty call. At least she thought she was.
This was the last thing she’d expected from Matt. Kelly had known her to be nothing but kind, thoughtful, and considerate. Or at least she’d thought she was. Did Matt actually believe that just because Kelly had shown a spark of jealousy, she was going to become a stalker? She was anything but, but Matt had no way of knowing that. They were barely acquainted. So why had she tossed and turned all night? Why did it matter? Why did she matter?
She didn’t like the way they’d parted yesterday. She was jealous and didn’t have a clue how to handle the emotion. Throw in a little fear about how she was starting to feel about Matt, with a bunch of anger at herself because of it, and it was the perfect storm. Unfortunately, Matt had been in the middle of it. It was a stupid, unfair thing to do, but it had snuck up on her so fast, she hadn’t seen it coming and could do nothing to stop it. She was dangerously close to falling hard for Matt, which would only get her heartache. They lived on different sides of the country, and even though planes flew both ways, she had a business and could not and would not leave Atlanta. But Matt was an author. Couldn’t authors write anywhere? Kelly shook her head. It was equally stupid to think Matt would pack up and move. She had a life in Phoenix, the details of which Kelly knew nothing.