by Linda Gerber
My knees felt weak. “He already knows?”
She looked at me strangely. “The driver. The one who hit your car . . .” She shifted on the stool again. “Jake didn’t know until the other night.”
My hands went cold. “Wait, what? My car?”
“It was his brother.”
It felt like the ground opened beneath my feet. “What? What are you saying?”
“He figured it out when he saw the name on your license.”
I blinked stupidly and gestured at Kinnear Music. “But . . . his name is Kinnear. His uncle—”
“Is his mom’s brother.” She leaned forward and placed her hand gently on mine. “Jake’s last name is Anderson.”
I pulled my hand away as if her touch burned. I couldn’t breathe. That’s how the numbers added up. Anderson. The name of the man in the headlines, the drunk who killed my mom. “I don’t understand,” I whispered. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He wanted to.”
“But?”
“He didn’t know how. He’s afraid you’ll hate him. Like this was his fault or something.”
I just kept shaking my head. This was all wrong.
“Now before you get upset, remember what I said about things happening for a reason. You getting transferred here, meeting Jake. He got you to open up, you got him to go for the audition and I think—”
My breath caught. “The what?”
“The audition tonight.” She looked hopeful. “This could be a chance for both of you to move beyond—”
“That’s where he’s going!” I grabbed her arm. “Where is it?”
She pulled away, confused. “Where’s what? The audition?”
I nodded breathlessly.
“Midland.” She frowned. “Some club over—oh, merde. Here it comes again.” Her hand flew to her belly and she bent over the counter, panting. “So what’s up . . . with the . . . twenty questions . . . about Jake?”
I hesitated. But this was Gina I was talking to. She could handle it. “My sister and I saw Jake in a vision. I have to warn him.”
She sprang straight up. “What? Why didn’t you say . . . ugn!” Her face crumpled for a second. “No lie, this kid is going to . . . be an only child!” She grabbed the phone and started dialing.
“He’s not picking up,” I told her, but she had to hear for herself. She slammed the phone back down on the cradle. “Well, what are you standing around for? Go find him.”
I hesitated. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“The baby.”
“Ashlyn, I swear . . .”
“I’m not going to leave you alone.”
She gestured to the mall and the people around us. “I’m hardly alone.”
“But if you need help—”
“It’s false labor,” she said between puffs of breath. “It’ll go away. You, on the other hand . . .”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m going, but I’ll be back.” I started to back out from behind the counter and she grabbed my arm.
“Wait,” she wheezed. “Do you know where to look?”
I shook my head helplessly. “All I know is he’s on a dark road. There are a lot of cars arou—”
“Enough.” She lowered herself down from the stool. “I changed my mind. I’m coming with you. I don’t know much, but I do know every road within a forty-mile radius of the mall. You describe it and I’ll help you find it.”
24
Lightning flashed overhead as Gina and I hurried to the car. I helped her into the backseat and made quick introductions before running around to the driver’s side.
“Well?” Kyra asked as I started the engine.
“He’s already gone,” I said.
“Audition in Midland,” Gina added. “He left about fifteen minutes ago.
“Gina says there’s only one road that would have lots of cars on it like you saw,” I explained. “State Route thirty-three.”
Kyra thought for a second and nodded. “Yes! I remember seeing a mile marker.”
“Where? What number?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t see the numbers, only the shape.”
In the backseat, Gina growled. “What are you waiting for? Go!”
My mind was at war as I drove across town. Just touching the steering wheel made my palms sweat and my muscles twitch. Driving with Kyra and Gina in the car was much harder than when it was just me. Any moment, another car could come hurtling through an intersection like before and in an instant, I could lose my sister and my friend the way I had lost my mom. I wanted to drive slow, cautious, watching for every possible collision. But Jake was out there, and I had to warn him.
Kyra and Gina navigated for me since they both knew the streets better than I did. Soon we had reached the entrance to the highway. Another wave of ice and nausea washed over me when I saw the cars whipping by.
“You can do it,” Kyra urged. “Just merge in. You’ve got it.”
I must have looked like an old grandma at the wheel, the way I was gripping it so tightly—at ten and two—leaning forward in my seat, staring over the top of it, but I couldn’t help it. By then, the rain beat down on the windshield so hard that even with the wipers going full speed, sheets of water cascaded across the glass and warped what I could see of the road. It made the lines waver and cast red halos around the taillights of the cars ahead. Outside the glow of my headlights, darkness swallowed the rest of the world. All that remained was the rain, the highway, and somewhere ahead, Jake on his motorcycle, unaware.
“Faster.” Gina shook my shoulder. “You’re never going to catch him like this.”
I stepped on the gas, strangling the steering wheel and trying to ignore the sharp edges of panic that lodged in my chest. Overhead, lightning tore open the sky, throwing everything into a photo negative for an instant. I blinked, spots dancing before my eyes.
“Watch out!” Kyra screamed.
The car ahead had slowed and I swerved out of the way just in time to avoid rear-ending it. I pumped the brakes the way I had been taught in driver’s ed, but still we skidded, the back end fishtailing before I gained control again. I think I screamed. Or maybe it was Kyra. Or Gina. Or all of us. My ears rang and my heart felt like it was lodged in my throat.
Ahead, the freeway glowed red, brake lights flashing like a monochromatic Christmas tree. Traffic slowed to the point that we were practically crawling. Another flash of lightning lit the scene and then vanished again, followed this time by a rolling growl of thunder.
“Oh, no,” Kyra said.
I could barely ask, “What is it?”
She just stared at me, her face ghostly pale in the glow of the dashboard lights.
But I didn’t need her to tell me. Now I could see for myself. The road flares. The highway patrolman in his long, dark raincoat, the reflective tape across his chest and sleeves glowing in the beam of the headlights as he waived traffic to the left-hand lane.
We were too late.
I didn’t cry. Not on the outside, anyway. Inside I was screaming so hard it felt like my lungs had been ripped out. Why Jake? Why now? Why did Kyra and I have to see these things that were going to happen if we couldn’t do anything to stop them? Why? Why? Why?
We crawled along in the traffic, rain pouring down like misery. I could see the wreck ahead. Not one car, but several. Twisted, mangled, broken. I thought of Jake on his motorcycle with no seat belt to hold him back, no metal protection around his body, and I wanted to scream again. We passed the wreckage in slow motion, Kyra, Gina, and I silent, staring straight ahead. The only sound in the car was the beating of the rain on the roof and the steady thwap, thwap, thwap of the windshield wipers. As soon as we passed the pileup, I swerved between the flares into the vacant right lane and threw the car into park.
Kyra grabbed my sleeve. “What are you doing? It’s over!”
I pulled my arm away and pushed the car door open. “Stay with Gina!” I yelled, and ran out into the
rain.
My eyes flutter open but for a moment I can’t see anything—only white. The air bag. I want to hit it away but it hurts to move. All I can do is to turn my head—slowly—to the side, and even that is painful.
Mom is leaning back against the passenger seat and her eyes are closed. It almost looks as if she’s sleeping, except that her mouth hangs open and the sound coming out of it is like an animal’s whimper.
I try to draw in a breath to call her name, but my chest feels heavy and full of knives. I can only take the smallest of gasps. Instead, I inch my hand over to where hers lies motionless on her knee and her fingers close around mine.
Faces appear in the space left by the shattered window and then move away. I can’t focus on any of them as the bright red lights pirouette through the scene.
Hands reach in through my door. I can feel the air bag deflate; the seat move; pressure on my neck, my back.
“She’ll need a board,” a man’s voice says.
A woman reaches in through the passenger window and presses her fingers against my mom’s neck. She’s wearing light blue rubber gloves. They come away red. She turns around and yells, “We need to get this door open, stat!” then back to my mom, “Stay with us, sweetheart. Help is on the way.” She lifts one of Mom’s eyelids and shines a bright light into it. “Fixed and dilated. Damn!”
Another sound comes from my mom’s throat, like air leaking from a tire. Her grip on my hand tightens and then goes slack.
“Mom!” I cry, but the only sound I can make is a whisper.
The rain instantly soaked through my clothes and plastered my hair to my cheeks. I slammed the door behind me and ran.
“Miss!” an officer called. “Stop right there!”
But I couldn’t stop. Not until I knew.
My legs felt like they had been filled with wet sand. Water streamed into my eyes faster than I could blink it away. The officer yelled after me, but it only made me run faster.
As I neared the wreckage, the scene took on a surreal edge. Several people clustered at the side of the road, some moving, some not. I passed a shirtless man holding a wad of cloth to his head. Another sitting on the asphalt, cradling his arm. The wheel on an overturned car spinning in lazy circles. Men in yellow prying open a door of another with what looked like a giant claw. Red and white lights chasing each other across the wreckage. A highway patrol car up ahead, parked at an angle across the road.
At least four cars were piled on top of each other, mashed together so completely that I couldn’t even see a trace of Jake’s Indian.
I knew I was crying then, tears hot on my cheeks and mixing with the cool rain. “Jake!” I screamed. “Jake!”
“Miss! Back away from—”
Just then, lightning flashed again so bright that it must have been directly overhead. Its sharp, electric smell cut through the wet odor of burned rubber and gasoline. Thunder followed instantaneously, the concussion like a pair of hands clapped over my ears. Shock waves trembled through the ground beneath my feet.
I crouched instinctively and threw my hands over my head. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear. I could barely think. I just wanted to die right there so the pain would stop.
That’s when I heard his voice in the distance calling my name. I closed my eyes, waiting for the white light. Wishing to go with him and never return.
“Ashlyn?”
My eyes flew open.
“Ashlyn!”
It was him! I stood shakily, afraid to move too quickly and end the dream.
Jake ran toward me, whole, beautiful, alive. He caught me in his arms and lifted me off the ground. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”
I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, held him to me. “I thought you were dead,” I sobbed. “I tried to stop you, but . . . but . . .”
He set me on my feet again, searching my face. “I pulled over,” he said. “When you kept calling my cell, I figured it must be urgent, but by the time I could answer it, the reception went out.”
“The storm,” I said.
“Must be. I was just about to pull back onto the road when a car came skidding past me sideways. It happened so fast I don’t even know . . .” He shook his head, remembering. “That car hit the one in front of it, and then the one behind couldn’t stop fast enough and . . .” He looked over at the pile of twisted metal and glass.
I held him tight again. I didn’t need to hear any more. I knew; I had seen what could have happened to him.
He wrapped me in his arms, resting his chin on top of my head. For the first time in a very long while, I knew where I belonged.
EPILOGUE
Jake holds tight to my hand as we walk through the brightly lit halls of the hospital. I hold tight to Kyra’s hand. Gina’s in room 327. I keep repeating the number in my head. Three twenty-seven. Three twenty-seven. Otherwise, my mind would drift back to another night, another trip down the sterile hallway. The paramedic and the ER nurse bending over me. The blur of lights overhead. Cool hands in latex gloves checking my respiration, my pulse. Stone faces and exchanged glances when I ask about my mom.
The barrage of sensations around me are uncomfortably familiar—the strange mixed scent of cafeteria food, flowers, and antiseptic; the squeak of gurney wheels rolling over polished floors; the soft ding of the elevator chime. But instead of green scrubs and powder blue gloves, the nurses in this hallway wear bright prints and wide smiles. The cries we hear from the rooms we pass are not cries of pain or loss; they are energetic cries, demanding cries, new-life cries.
Outside Gina’s door, we pause until she calls out to us impatiently. “Get in here.”
Single file we shuffle into the room.
Gina’s sitting up in the bed, a pink little bundle in her arms. “Come on over,” she says softly. “Talia wants to meet you.”
Talia Lyn came into the world on Route 33 at exactly 9:57 P.M. One of the paramedics from the accident scene helped to deliver her in the backseat of my car. The television news crews who had gathered to film the drama of the accident quickly dubbed Talia the miracle baby, even though she hadn’t actually been part of the pileup. She is unimpressed by the attention, and sleeps peacefully in her mother’s arms.
“What do you think?” Gina asks. “Not bad, huh?”
“Not bad at all.” Jake gently rubs his thumb over Talia’s downy black hair, and his face fills with wonder.
“It’s a pretty name,” Kyra says.
“Thanks.” Gina smiles sheepishly. “It was supposed to be Natalia, but when I ran the numbers, the vibration was all wrong.”
I can’t help but laugh. Jake squeezes my hand tighter and I smile up at him. We might not have been able to change the past, but we had changed the power it held over us. I don’t know what the future holds—I don’t want to know—but we had changed the here, the now, and that is enough.
Kyra and I haven’t had another trance since the night of the accident. We can only guess why. It’s like we crossed some sort of threshold by stopping what we saw. It’s been four weeks and not a ripple.
Kyra is moving home today. Dad seems happy to have her coming back . . . at least he’s smiling more. He’s also a little more relaxed. He still spends a lot of time in his office, though. I suppose he isn’t ready yet to take on the chaos outside his office door. That’s okay. Like Gina said, everyone deals with grief in their own way. He’ll come around. Eventually.
Michelle calls while I’m helping Kyra to move her things back into our room.
“I haven’t seen you for eons,” she says. “Do you want to go do something?”
I glance at Kyra and she mouths, “Just go.”
“Jake’s playing with a band over in Westerville tonight,” I tell Michelle. “I was thinking of going. You want to come?”
She practically squeals her approval. “Sounds perfect. What time should I pick you up?”
“That’s okay,” I tell her. “I’ll drive.”
Michelle and I are sit
ting at a front table at the Ice House, where Jake’s band is about to go on. Michelle’s eyes keep straying as we’re talking and I turn around to see Trey at a table behind us.
“Go on,” I say.
She hesitates for only a moment and then gives me a quick hug. “I knew you’d understand,” she whispers, and runs off to join him.
For an instant, I feel a strange tug in my stomach as I remember the last time she said that to me. A lot has happened since then. But I don’t dwell on that like I used to. I can’t. The past is past. It can’t be changed. I’ve learned to accept that.
When Jake’s band comes onstage, I pull out my old Nikon. When I set up the shots, I still look for the small things, the textures, the details, but for the first time, I also take pictures of the whole. I don’t feel the need to break it up anymore.
The band is just okay, but Jake is phenomenal. He looks more content and relaxed than I’ve ever seen him before. I’m thinking he must really love music if it makes him so happy, and then his eyes meet mine. That’s when I understand it’s not just about the music.
Kyra’s sitting on her bed reading when I come home. She glances up when I walk in the room. “How was it?”
I can feel the smile building all the way up from my toenails. “Perfect.” I sit at the desk and pull off my shoes and socks. “Jake was fantastic. I wish you would have come with us.”
She just smiles and shakes her head. People and crowds are still not her thing. “Your boss lady called at least three times while you were gone. She wants to make sure you’re going to be there in the morning.”
“I’ll be there.”
I was finally able to convince Dad to let me go back to work at ShutterBugz after Gina had the baby and Carole was left seriously shorthanded. It’s not quite the same, though, now that Jake has quit working for his uncle. I’ll probably only stay there until she can find someone else to take my place. Knowing Carole, that may be a while.
I take off my earrings and lay them on the desk. I’m just reaching back to unclasp my necklace when I find myself scratching at a familiar itch. My eyes go wide and I clamp a hand to the back of my neck.