But not once did she see him move.
TWENTY-FIVE
Around, and around, and around. Trina spun like the clothes in a washer drum. She reached out to grab something. . .anything. . . to make the spinning stop, and her hand connected with something solid.
Pain stabbed, bringing her eyes open. She blinked, uncertain, peering into a dim, unfamiliar room. She lay in a tall, narrow bed. Something trailed from one hand, and the other—the one she’d flung outward—was wrapped in a bandage. It throbbed. She cradled it against her chest. Soft beeps interrupted the silence. A lump shifted in the chair beside the bed, and Trina squinted, trying to make sense of the strange surroundings.
By increments, remembrance dawned. She was in a hospital room. An ambulance had brought her here after the emergency workers had extracted her from Graham’s car. The doctor—young, with kind eyes— had insisted she stay overnight for observation. Mama was in the chair because she refused to leave with Dad.
Now, her gaze on her mother, she whispered, “Mama?”
Mama shifted again, groaning slightly. Then she sat straight up, twisting around to face Trina. “Trina, you’re awake? The doctor said the sedative would make you sleep all night.”
So that’s why she felt so groggy. It took great effort to hold her eyelids open. But her memory only retained bits and pieces. She needed the whole picture. “What happened to Graham?” Her tongue felt thick, clumsy, and her words sounded slurred. For a moment, she wasn’t sure Mama understood.
But then Mama answered. “Graham. . .isn’t here.”
Trina’s heart leaped in her chest. “Where—where is he? He isn’t—” A picture of him sprawled on the ground, unmoving, filled Trina’s head. She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, please don’t say it. Don’t say it!
A warm hand smoothed Trina’s tangled hair away from her face, and Trina opened her eyes. Mama leaned over the bed, her tired face sad. “He’s in Wichita, Trina. They needed him to be where there were surgeons who could better take care of him. They think he fractured his spine.”
Trina swallowed, her mind scrabbling to grasp the possible consequences of such an injury. The most severe lodged in her brain and refused to leave. “Oh, Mama. . .”
“Now, it’s too soon to worry,” Mama soothed, her hand stroking, the touch comforting. “You just sleep and let the doctors take care of Graham. Trust, Trina. Just trust.”
Despite the fear that pressed upward, her eyelids were too heavy to hold open. They drifted shut, sending Trina back into the dark world of sleep.
“She’s going to be fine.” The doctor sent Trina a smile then turned to face Mama, who hovered on the opposite side of the bed. “She does have some bruised ribs, and her wrist is sprained, but fortunately there are no broken bones. Over the next few days, you’ll probably see lots of black and blue places pop up, but considering the way she was thrown around, that’s to be expected. It’s miraculous, really, that her injuries aren’t more severe.”
Like Graham’s, Trina’s thoughts continued. “So I can go?” she asked.
“Yes, I’ll prepare your release papers right now.” The doctor put his hand on Trina’s shoulder. “But I want you to take it easy for a few days. Take a week off from work. Don’t just lie around—your muscles will stiffen up if you do that—but don’t overdo, either.” He shifted his gaze to Mama. “I’ll want to see her again in a week, just as a follow-up. I ordered a prescription painkiller to help her sleep. You can pick it up in the pharmacy on your way out, as well as a list of dos and don’ts to follow while she’s recovering.”
“Thank you,” Mama said, and the doctor left.
Trina immediately grabbed the rail of the bed and pulled herself upright, throwing her legs over the side. A sharp pain stabbed her left side, but she ignored it and rose to her feet. “Help me dress, please.”
Dizziness struck, and she clung to the bed rail while Mama retrieved her dress from a small cubby in the corner. She helped Trina remove the hospital gown and slip back into her clothes. Her dress was dirty and torn, but Trina didn’t care. She sat on a chair and let Mama put her socks and shoes on her feet. Then, fully dressed, she said, “I want to go see Graham.”
Mama, still on her knee in front of Trina, shook her head. “No. You heard the doctor. He said—”
“He said to take it easy, but he didn’t say I couldn’t ride in a car.” Memories of her last car ride struck, and for a moment, her resolve faltered. Then she thought of everything Graham had done to make her dream of becoming a veterinarian come true. She shook her head, dispelling the unpleasant memories. “I need to see him, Mama. I need to talk to him—to find out for myself how he’s doing.”
“His mother promised to call and leave word with your dad,” Mama said. “We’ll get all the information we need from Mrs. Ortmann. Besides, you can’t do him any good in Wichita.”
“But it will do me good,” Trina insisted, imploring her mother with her eyes. When she was growing up, she never begged her parents—she always accepted their no. But Graham was worth begging for. Graham was worth everything.
Mama grimaced. “Trina, we’re both filthy.”
For the first time, Trina noticed Mama’s scraggly hair and rumpled clothing. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, sending a silent message of Mama’s restless night. Tears welled in Trina’s eyes as she realized the selfishness of her request, yet she couldn’t set the desire aside. “Mama, please.”
Mama turned stubborn, setting her mouth in a firm line. “Not today, Trina. We’ll go home, talk to your dad—find out the news on Graham. But we won’t be traveling to Wichita.”
It was all Trina could do to keep from dissolving into a tantrum, but she managed a stiff nod. “Tomorrow, then?” Tomorrow was Sunday, a day of rest.
Mama sighed, her head sagging as if her neck muscles were incapable of holding it up. “We’ll see.”
Not a promise, but not an outright denial, either. Trina could accept it. For now.
Mama headed for the door. “I’m going to go call your father and tell him to come pick us up. You stay there in the chair and rest. I’ll be right back.”
Dad joined ranks with Mama in keeping Trina home to recover rather than taking her to Wichita to see Graham. Beth, Andrew, and Uncle Henry all volunteered to make the drive, and her parents still said no. Dad insisted Mrs. Ortmann could keep them apprised of Graham’s progress without their visiting. Trina resented the decision, but she could do little but obey since she had no vehicle of her own and no driver’s license.
Sunday after service, many people approached Trina to let her know they were praying for both her and Graham and to express their happiness that the couple had survived the accident. Trina’s family went to Uncle Henry and Aunt Marie’s house for lunch. When they’d finished eating, Trina and Tony walked next door to Uncle Henry’s repair garage to see Graham’s car. A tow truck had hauled it there, but looking at it, Trina had to wonder why it hadn’t been taken straight to a junkyard. She was no expert on vehicles, but even she could see the car wasn’t salvageable.
Another thing Graham had to give up.
Tony ran his hand over the crumpled hood. “Whew, Trina. It’s hard to believe you were in that thing and walked away from it.” He stared at her with wide brown eyes. “You could have been killed!”
“That’s what the doctor said,” Trina said. She walked to the driver’s door and placed her uninjured hand on the window frame. The firemen had broken all the glass out when they pried the door open to rescue her, and bits of glass sparkled on the seat. Trina shivered, remembering the fear of the moments when the car went rolling from top to bottom. She pushed the memory away and said, “I don’t know how Graham will buy another car.”
Tony perked up. “I do. I heard the folks and Uncle Henry talking. This one is going to be claimed as totaled, and the insurance company will give him a check for its value. It should be enough to buy another used car.”
Trina was pleased it would be replaced, yet s
he knew it wouldn’t be the same. Graham’s grandparents had given him this car as a gift—it meant a great deal to him. Something else occurred to her. “But won’t he need to use the money from the car insurance to pay for his doctor bills?”
Tony shook his head. “That pickup driver—the one who hit you? The police said the accident was his fault, so his insurance is covering all the hospital expenses. Even yours.”
Trina nodded slowly. At least there would be no concerns about paying the bills. Almost three years ago, when Aunt Marie’s twins had come early, requiring surgery for Aunt Marie and a long hospital stay for the babies, the community had rallied around to help pay the bills. Even with the contributions, Aunt Marie and Uncle Henry still made monthly payments to the hospital and probably would for many more years. If Graham needed surgery and a long stay in the hospital, his bills would probably be just as big as Aunt Marie’s had been.
“I wish I could see him.”
Somehow Tony understood she meant Graham and not the truck driver. He nodded, his eyes sad. “I know.”
“It was all my fault.” She whispered the worry that had plagued her ever since she’d glimpsed Graham lying in the ditch.
Tony’s brows came down. “No, it wasn’t.”
“It was.” Trina gulped. “Graham only had one hand on the steering wheel because I—I was snuggling up to his side, and he put his arm around me. If I’d stayed on my own side of the seat, then—”
“Trina, that’s dumb.” Tony’s voice sounded like Dad’s, although Dad never used the word dumb. “The police said the pickup truck driver was messing around with the CD player in his cab and not paying attention. That’s why he crossed into your lane. Then, instead of hitting his brakes, he panicked and pushed down on the gas pedal. He made a mistake and ran into you.”
Trina considered Tony’s words. She remembered seeing that the driver’s head was down, as if looking at something below the dash. But still, if Graham would have had both hands free, maybe he could have gotten out of the way. If only she could see him and apologize to him! If she knew he was going to be all right, maybe she could set this worry and guilt aside.
“Trina,” Tony said, his voice fervent, “it wasn’t your fault. It’s just something that happened—an accident. Don’t feel bad, huh?”
Suddenly she realized she didn’t know whether the truck’s driver was injured, and a different sort of guilt struck. “Was the other driver hurt?”
Tony made a face. “According to Dad, he had some bumps and bruises—kind of like you. But nothing serious.”
A part of Trina was relieved by the news but a tiny bit rankled at the unfairness of the situation. Graham hadn’t been in the wrong. She and the pickup truck driver had been in the wrong. They were the ones who should be suffering. Pressing her forehead to the top of the window frame, she closed her eyes and prayed again for forgiveness for her part in the accident.
“Let’s go back over to Uncle Henry’s,” Tony suggested, touching her arm. “You’ve been up long enough now.”
Trina wanted to snap at her brother that she already had enough people telling her what she should and shouldn’t do—he didn’t need to add to it! But she knew her brother only wanted to help, so she held the words inside and nodded.
That evening, after supper, Trina asked, “Will someone drive me to Wichita tomorrow so I can see Graham?”
Mama and Dad exchanged looks across the table.
Before they could refuse, Trina spoke again. “He’s going to wonder why I haven’t come. He may worry that I’m really hurt and I’m not able to come. Worrying can’t be good for him—not if he’s seriously injured.” She looked at her mother. “You aren’t working tomorrow, Mama. Please, won’t you find someone to drive us to Wichita?”
Mama sighed. “Trina, there isn’t anything we can do for Graham right now except pray, and praying can be done from home. Remember how crowded the waiting room got when we all spent time at the hospital with your aunt Marie? We’d only be in the way over there.”
“But I promise not to bother anyone. I just want to see him, to talk to him, to make sure he’s okay and let him know I’m okay.”
Another lengthy silence followed while Mama and Dad poked at their nearly empty plates and refused to answer.
Trina bounced her gaze back and forth between her parents, taking in their firm, unmoving faces. A fierce fear struck, and she dropped her fork with a clatter. “What are you trying to keep from me? Why don’t you want me to see Graham?”
“That isn’t it at all, Trina,” Dad blustered. “Of course we want you to be able to see Graham, but—”
Mama interrupted. “We’ve told you everything we know about Graham.”
“Tell me again.” Surely she’d missed something. There had to be some reason her parents wouldn’t take her—some tidbit of information that would explain everything.
Dad lifted his face to the ceiling for a moment, as if gathering strength, then faced Trina. “Graham’s spine was fractured. When he’s stabilized and they are certain he has no internal bleeding, they plan to operate. Until then, they are keeping him in a drug-induced coma so he doesn’t move around and cause further injury to the spine. That’s all we know, Trina.”
“If he’s not awake, he won’t know you aren’t there,” Mama added, putting her hand over Trina’s.
Trina jerked her hand free. “But I’ll know! And I need to see him. For myself—I need to see for myself that he is alive. Why won’t you let me see him?”
Tony, normally silent during family discussions, cleared his throat. “I think you should let her go. She’s really worrying about him. It would do her good.”
Much to Trina’s surprise, neither parent reprimanded Tony for interfering. For long moments Mama and Dad looked at each other, and Trina sensed they were silently communicating with each other. Hoping they were deciding to let her go to Wichita, she remained quiet, too, her breath coming in little spurts while she waited for them to reach the conclusion.
Finally, Dad put both hands flat on the tabletop and faced Trina. “Daughter, we didn’t want to tell you this because we feared it would hurt you. But you don’t leave us much choice.” His voice sounded low, gruff, heavy with pain.
Trina’s heart turned a somersault in her chest. “W–what is it?”
Dad pinched his lips together, his forehead creasing into a knot. “When Graham’s mother called the first time—when they’d just gotten Graham settled in the room at Wichita—she had a message for you from Graham.”
“Well?” Trina thought she might explode from impatience. “What? What did he say?”
Her father’s head lowered, giving her a view of his thinning scalp. His shoulders heaved in a sigh. Then, his face still aimed downward, he said, “She said that Graham said to tell you not to come.”
TWENTY-SIX
Wednesday morning after breakfast, Dad and Tony headed to their jobs as usual, and Mama walked to the café. She had chosen to keep it closed Tuesday and spend the day with Trina, but she said people needed a return to normalcy, so she’d better go back. However, right before leaving, she instructed Trina to take it easy. Trina couldn’t remember her mother ever leaving her alone without a list of chores to occupy her time. At first, it seemed like freedom. But in short order, restlessness struck. Sitting and doing nothing made the time crawl by.
Her schoolbooks sat on the table in her room, yet she couldn’t open them. Her focus was too far away—one hundred and ten miles away, to be exact. She knew whatever assignments on which she tried to work would only be done poorly. Why would Graham ask me to stay away? The question plagued her constantly, but she could find no answer.
She tried reading her Bible and praying, seeking peace, but even talking to God turned into a frustrating question session without answers. So with nothing else to do, she paced the living room, pausing at the window at each turn to stare out at the late October morning. It almost surprised her to see the multicolored leaves on the tree
s. Fall had sneaked up on her this year.
Staring unseeingly across the yard, she thought about the hours she’d spent in her bedroom or at Beth’s computer, working on her college classes. Even though she knew it was God’s call on her heart and something Graham encouraged, she now discovered a small prick of resentment. She’d missed watching summer give way to fall. She’d missed hours and hours of time with Graham. Those lost hours multiplied in value when faced with the prospect of not having time with him again.
She thumped the window casing with her fist. “I’ve got to think about something else!” Stewing over the strange message wouldn’t change it. She’d not be able to make sense of it until she talked to Graham, and she might not be able to talk to Graham for several more days. According to his mother, the doctors would keep him in the drug-induced sleep until the swelling completely subsided. Then they would try to repair the damaged vertebrae.
How she wished the doctors could say for sure what the end result would be after the surgery. Whether Graham would have full use of his legs. If he couldn’t, it would change everything.
But what would it matter if he no longer wanted her around?
Turning from the window, she flumped onto the sofa and ran her fingers over the elastic bandage that held the splint on her left wrist. Typing would be even more of a challenge now that she was one-handed. How would she keep up with her classes? Or should she even continue her classes?
“Oh, dear heavenly Father,” Trina groaned, rubbing her hand down her cheek and discovering tears, “what am I supposed to do now? I’m so confused. Why does it seem there’s always something in the way of my becoming a doctor for animals?”
Just as she finished the thought, a knock at the door sounded. She quickly wiped away the remainder of tears and opened the door. Andrew stood on the porch, a serious look on his face.
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