Sunny's Hope

by Nola Cross

  The medic spoke into the mic of her headset. “Adult female is now E4, V4, M5.”

  What do all those numbers mean? Why doesn’t she mention Jasmine? Unable to turn her head at all, she watched the male EMT from the corner of her eye as he bent over her daughter. He kept his face completely blank.

  “Trauma…” Sunny balanced the word on her lips, even as she realized her head and neck were throbbing on the right side. “Why don’t I hear my baby? Jasmine? Jasmine? Can you hear me?”

  “Shh. She’s temporarily lost consciousness.”

  “Oh no!”

  “Lie still please. Don’t try to sit up.”

  “What about my friend Ben and his little boy?”

  “They were transported by ground ambulance to Mount Hood Medical Center.”

  “Are they okay?” Please be okay!

  “I don’t have that information, but rest assured everything possible is being done.”

  Sunny’s mind whirled, flitting from one fragment of memory to the next. The inner tube with Ben and Jasmine flying past. So much laughter. Mugs of hot chocolate. That searing kiss Ben had given her. And then the thunderous impact that had come out of nowhere…and waking up here two minutes ago. How long had she been out? What was wrong with Jasmine?

  Still unconscious! Sunny knew enough to realize it wasn’t a good sign that her daughter lay so silent on the gurney beside her. She closed her eyes again, letting the foreign smells and sounds of the medical rescue chopper wash over her.

  Then she began to pray.

  * * * *

  Ben leaned back against the taxi’s stiff back seat and flicked off his phone, battling to keep his temper from exploding in a series of expletives unfit for Spencer’s young ears. The little boy slouched against him, finally dozing, as the big yellow car slipped through the wet, silent streets of Portland. It was just after five in the morning.

  Of course they’d refused to tell him anything by phone at Legacy Emanuel Medical Center, only confirming that Sunny and Jasmine had been admitted as inpatients. Ben wasn’t a relative. He’d have to come there during regular visiting hours. And no, Ms. Williamson was not allowed to accept phone calls at this time.

  What he’d wanted to do more than anything was to go directly there, but it wasn’t realistic to haul his son along with him. He needed to get Spencer home, then call the little guy’s pediatrician as soon as their office opened. Spencer would need to be checked out by his own doctor later this morning. Although he seemed to have come through the wreck unscathed—as Ben himself had—you couldn’t be too careful when it came to small kids.

  Again he thought about Jasmine, remembering how limp and unresponsive the girl had been as the EMTs strapped her onto a gurney and immobilized her head and neck, awaiting the chopper’s arrival. At least Sunny had been semi-conscious, making moaning sounds and moving her limbs restlessly. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

  He looked at his watch. It had now been almost ten hours since he and Spencer had taken the ground ambulance ride down the mountain to the nearby Mount Hood Medical Center. They’d gotten priority treatment in the ER, but then had to wait several hours to be released. The docs wanted to observe Spencer over a period of time, make sure he didn’t have a concussion before letting them go. So the two of them had napped and played games on his phone, while Ben struggled with an overwhelming urge to grab his boy and make a run for it.

  He hated hospitals, and that feeling extended to clinics and any other facility devoted to health care. Actually, hate was not strong enough a word. He’d spent more than his share of hours hanging out in sterile corridors and waiting rooms during the year his wife Corinne was being treated for ovarian cancer. She’d been gone for a year now, but his aversion to all things medical hadn’t lessened one bit.

  Between catnaps, he’d distracted himself by obsessing about the accident. Wasn’t there something he could have done to avoid it?

  By now he had a pretty complete understanding of what had happened. A mid-sized, move-it-yourself truck had skidded through the stop sign at a crossroad and hit them broadside. T-boned them. The impact had crushed the passenger side of the SUV and spun them one hundred and eighty degrees before the guardrail stopped them. How they had avoided hitting other cars on the busy highway was a mystery. A miracle.

  He’d already said so many prayers of thanks this morning.

  And so many prayers of supplication. Please let Sunny and Jasmine be all right.

  And then he asked himself the question again that had pummeled his mind all morning: If he hadn’t had his eyes on Sunny, would he have spotted the guy about to run the stop sign? Would that have given him enough time to brake and avoid the accident? Or would they simply have impacted at the front end of the SUV instead? Hell, that might have resulted in an even worse outcome.

  There was no way to know. The witnesses and bystanders had all assured him he was not at fault. They’d told the state troopers who arrived shortly thereafter the same thing. Legally, he was most certainly in the clear, and the driver of the truck was uninjured. But those facts were small comfort when you had to stand and watch helplessly as the woman you loved was being extricated from your car with a Sawzall.

  * * * *

  It was almost three that afternoon when Ben finally made it to Legacy Emanuel. The state-of-the-art medical center was located in northeast Portland, a good half hour from his neighborhood. A drizzling rain slowed traffic to a crawl, turning the jaunt into more like forty-five minutes.

  He’d spent the morning dealing with his insurance company, making a claim and arranging for a car rental. Then they’d visited Spencer’s pediatrician, confirming that the lucky little guy was fine. The side curtain airbags and booster seat with belts had done their job. Afterward, he’d arranged for Sunny’s elderly neighbor, Peggy, to come by and watch Spencer while the boy slept.

  He should have grabbed some sleep himself, Ben thought as he piloted the rental sedan into the underground parking garage at the medical center. By now he was running on fumes. But he’d already delayed getting to Sunny longer than he wanted to. He could only hope the nurses had given her the message that he’d tried to call her all those times.

  At the front desk, he learned Jasmine was in pediatric ICU, but that was all the receptionist would divulge. No non-family visitors were allowed. His belly lurched as he tried to imagine the extent of her injuries. Why hadn’t the side airbags protected her like they had Spencer? What was her prognosis? Was she going to be okay? As he rode the elevator up to Sunny’s room on the third floor, his gut churned. Jasmine and Sunny had been hurt on his watch. Would he ever be able to forgive himself for that?

  He stopped at the nurse’s station to make sure it was okay to see Sunny, then made his way down the long corridor to her room. His heart was jammed into the back of his throat as he tapped softly on the door and pushed it open.

  Sunny lay unmoving in the narrow bed, her eyes closed. The overhead light was off but children’s cartoons danced soundlessly on the television. The flickering light from the screen showed some kind of bulky, padded contraption around her neck. Pulse and blood pressure were being monitored by a scary looking machine, and an IV drip was attached to the back of her left hand.

  Ben had to battle to stay in the room. God, how he hated these places!

  He stood looking down at her, his gaze caressing the beautiful face he’d come to love so much. From here, she didn’t look badly injured. She simply looked like she was sleeping peacefully. Maybe she would be okay.

  Please let her be okay.

  The bright sting of tears prickled behind his eyes and he blinked them back, rubbed his eye sockets. I’m just exhausted, that’s all. He dragged the chair from across the room and sat down beside her. Her right hand lay on top of the white blanket, slender brown fingers unmoving. He closed his hand over hers.

  After a few moments her eyes fluttered open, recognition and surprise making them go wide for an instant. “Ben!”


  His heart leaped with relief. “Sunny. Sunny. I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry? It’s okay. I’m okay. Really.” She tried to smile, then her eyes focused and she grabbed at his hand. “Have you seen Jasmine?”

  “No. I wanted to see you first. How is she?”

  “The doctors have sedated her, Ben. They’ve induced a coma to protect her brain.” Her voice cracked and tears immediately began leaking down her cheeks. “There’s some bleeding, some swelling.”

  “Damn it! Damn it! This is my fault.” He rose from the chair and began to pace.

  “No, it’s not. A deputy sheriff came by earlier to ask me some questions. She told me about the truck that failed to stop.”

  “But I should have been able to do something.” His throat ached with a sickening sensation of guilt and frustration.

  “Don’t blame yourself. Please. That doesn’t make anything better.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, swallowing hard. “I suppose not,” he finally said.

  “How are you? And how is Spencer?”

  Ben dropped back into the seat beside her. “We’re both fine. No after-effects. I just can’t understand why the side airbags didn’t do a better job of protecting you two.”

  “They did do their job. The doctor says it could have been so much worse for me without that airbag.”

  “What about Jasmine?”

  “They think she probably fell asleep with her face leaning against the door, and when the bag deployed it sort of exploded against her head. That happens with children sometimes.”

  “Oh no.” He choked, imagining what that kind of impact might do to a small skull.

  “She began to regain consciousness not long after I did, but the tests showed there’s some bleeding into her brain.” She stopped to regain her composure, looking away for a moment, then took a long, shuddering breath. “So they’ve sedated her and placed a ventilator to help her breathe. The doctor hopes surgery won’t be necessary.”

  “How long before they know the extent of the damage?”

  “I’m not sure. The next few days are critical though.” She grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and blew her nose, then attempted a brave smile. “I understand they have an excellent neurology department here.”

  “I’m sure they do. What about you? When do you get to go home?”

  “They want to keep me one more night, since I lost consciousness for almost twenty minutes. They say there could be latent trauma. But I’m good, really.”

  “What about that neck thingie?”

  “Brace,” she said, now managing to smile for real.

  “Brace.” He smiled back, feeling hope beginning to seep into his heart.

  “It’s just a precaution to stabilize my upper spine. I should only need to wear it for a couple of weeks.”

  “That’s good. It looks so uncomfortable.”

  “Yes. I don’t know how I’m going to see to put on my shoes.” She gave a dry chuckle.

  Ben blinked, astounded at her resilience. He’d always known she was a strong woman, but to be able to crack a little joke at a time like this? “You’re amazing,” he said.

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Trust me.”

  “Can I ask you a favor?” she said.

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Can you drop by the house tonight and feed Mr. Trix?”

  “Your cat?” He nodded. “Of course.”

  “There’s a key under the potted cedar by the side of the garage. In the pantry are some small cans. He gets a whole one of those. And check his kibble dish. The bag is also in the pantry.”

  “Okay.”

  “And refresh his water.”

  “All this for a cat?” he teased.

  “I know you don’t like cats, but Jasmine adores this one.”

  Ben shifted in the chair, caressing her knuckles. “I never said I didn’t like cats, I said I was allergic to some cats. So far I’ve never even seen this Trix guy. I think he heads for the cat door the minute I show up.”

  “He’s a little shy. But he should be pretty hungry by now, so he’ll probably come to you if you call him.”

  They fell silent, and Sunny wove her fingers through his, clasping his hand tight against hers. The warmth of her skin seemed to dispel some of the ugly, surreal quality of the last twelve hours. Ben marveled at the fact that they were sitting there talking about such mundane topics as cat food. After not knowing for sure how badly she’d been injured, to be able to talk with her, to touch her, seemed like a miracle.

  “Can I kiss you?” he finally said.

  “I’d like that.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Again.

  “You won’t.” Her amber eyes looked into his, and the trust and love he saw there blew him away.

  He stood and carefully braced his hands on the bed on either side of her, then leaned down and placed his lips against hers. The soft, warm welcome of her lush mouth sent waves of pleasure through his body. He was home again. Home.

  And was it completely inappropriate that—just for a second or two—he remembered the incredible night of passion they had just shared? Sunny’s fingers trailed along his cheek and she made a small, appreciative sound. Maybe her thoughts were similar to his.

  Chapter 3

  Sunny relaxed back into the hard hospital pillow as Ben’s lips pressed to hers. His familiar scent surrounded her, bringing with it a measure of comfort and peace. This was where she belonged, with this man who loved and treasured her. There would be challenges to face, sure, but together they could handle anything. Surely Jasmine would get better. It was all going to work out. His kind eyes, his smile, the very breadth of his chest and shoulders made her feel safe.

  As his mouth moved softly against hers, other emotions began to stir. She touched his stubbled cheek, remembering how delicious the subtle scrape of that rough texture felt against her inner thigh. Her heart began to speed up. She couldn’t stop the small moan that bubbled up in her throat.

  “Well, well, I guess it’s no surprise Loverboy is here.”

  Ben spun to face the door. Sunny gasped.

  Charles! Her ex-husband stood in the open doorway, his little black eyes taking in everything in an instant.

  “What are you doing here, Charles?” Sunny grabbed the handrails and managed to pull herself up to face him, her neck throbbing. Somehow, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from wiping her lips where Ben had just kissed her. Damn it! She hoped he hadn’t seen her do that. He stood silently facing the other man, his fists clenched.

  “The hospital called me. I’m listed in their records as Jasmine’s father, you know.” Her ex’s pointy chin with its scruffy soul patch jutted out defiantly.

  Of course. They’d come here to the ER two years ago when Jasmine had a severe ear infection in the middle of the night. Legally, she couldn’t make them remove Charles as her daughter’s next of kin, even though he chose not to share custody and rarely made an effort to see her.

  “What the hell happened?” he asked.

  “We were broadsided by a truck. Have you been up to see Jasmine?”

  “Yeah. I saw her. She’s still out. And she doesn’t look so good. Tubes and shit are sticking out all over her.”

  Sunny fought down a renewed sense of panic. She’d been up to the pediatric ICU herself just an hour before. It was so horrifying to see the way her baby girl looked right now, her head swathed in bandages. Suddenly she needed to get back there to see her again.

  Just then she heard the click-clack of spike heels in the tiled hallway, and Charles’s young girlfriend, Sharina, popped her head in the door. The two of them had broken up over the Christmas holiday but apparently that hadn’t lasted very long.

  “You about done here, baby?” Ignoring Sunny and Ben, she wrapped her arm through Charles’s and put her pouty red lips to his ear, whispering something Sunny couldn’t hear.

  He drew back and grinned. “That’s right. I almost
forgot.” He turned to Sunny. “What’s the deal with the car insurance, anyway?”

  Ben stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. “I’ve already handled all that, Williamson. Any expense that isn’t covered by the other driver’s insurance will be picked up by mine.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get that.” Charles waved Ben away and turned back toward Sunny. “What about pain and suffering and shit like that? You gonna sue that other guy or what?”

  “Sue him?” Sunny’s mind whirled. Leave it to Charles to jump onboard any possibility of making a profit off other people’s suffering.

  “There shouldn’t be any reason for that,” Ben said. “The insurance will—”

  “I’m not talking to you, Loverboy,” Charles interrupted, not even bothering to look Ben’s way. He walked forward and stood next to the bed, giving Sunny an oily smile. “I’m saying my wife here should take the opportunity to make sure all our financial bases are covered.”

  “Ex-wife,” Sharina interjected.

  “That’s what I said.” Charles scowled without turning.

  “No, you—”

  “Shut up, girl.” He held up a dismissive palm at the younger woman. For a fleeting moment, Sunny almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

  Then she was filled with raw fury as full realization dawned. “So this is why you stopped in here today? To see if there was money to be made? That’s a new low, Charles, even for you. Get out, both of you.”

  God, that felt good! If her head wasn’t throbbing right now and Jasmine wasn’t hurt, it would have been a perfect moment.

  “Now Sunny—”

  “You heard her.” Ben took a step or two toward the other man. “Both of you leave now.”

  Her ex backed in the direction of the door, holding up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Okay. Okay. I’m going. But think about it, baby. Just think about it.” Then he rubbed his thumb and fingers together in the universal symbol for cash.

  “Let’s go, Charles,” Sharina cried. That last endearment seemed to have sent her over the edge. She practically pushed him out the door.