Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five

by Alexa Padgett

  “What happened?” Not exactly what I meant to ask, but my mind rolled over like an otter at sea. Slow, balancing on the small waves. I moaned softly, closing my still-unfocused eyes.

  “Evangeline? Look at me, honey.”

  I forced my eyes to unglue and turned my head a little. There she was. My savior. Her dark skin was puckered between her thin, black brows. Her eyes were bloodshot, making the brown of her irises stand out even further. “You were in a car accident, honey.”

  “Bad one. Head-on,” I said. I wanted to raise my hands to my ears to clamp out the sound, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t be able to block the sound of metal being ripped from its chassis, the violent shove of my body into the seatbelt, then the harder slam back after the airbag erupted, hitting me in the face.

  I hurt everywhere.

  “Yes. Real bad.” Marilyn dropped her head and I stared at her thick black hair threaded with gray. “They pulled you out with those jaws of life things. Popped what little was left of your car open to get to you. The engine didn’t blow because it was on the road ten feet behind the rest of your Civic.”

  “Guess it’s good that you made me purchase such a safe car, huh?”

  Marilyn shook her head, her mouth set in a firm line as the fear slowly leached from her dark eyes.

  “I’m going to be fine, Mama M,” I said. I wasn’t sure I believed my own words, but she needed the reassurance.

  Marilyn squeezed my fingers tightly. “You will be, honey. And thank the sweet lord for that.”

  “I love you.” I’d never actually told her that before. I should have, years ago. But the words were tricky. My birth mother had often said them to her boyfriends. Never once to me. Not even when she was healthy, and I was safe.

  Marilyn dipped her head. The dark hairs were salted with white. When had she become so old? “Not as much as I love you, child,” she rasped. Clearing her throat, she raised her head and met my gaze. “Rest up now, honey child. I need you well.”

  I sighed, wanting to nod, but my head was too heavy, and my eyelids pressed shut once again.

  Marilyn had been in my life since high school, and was even more a part of it now that I was in college. She was the one constant I could count on—the one person in my life who actually cared. Meeting her had been a fluke. Both the first and the second time. But Marilyn had acquired me, as she did all her little chicks, and I was forever grateful for whoever or whatever made us meet.

  I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but the intensity of the pain woke me. My chest and ribs ached so much each breath was a study in willpower. Tears formed in my eyes and I couldn’t stop their flow down my cheeks.

  “Oh, honey. How long have you been awake?” Concern surged through Marilyn’s words.

  The silence was shattered by my sharp, hissing breaths that fought the cannula forcing oxygen into my nose. The smell was foreign and I choked, causing my lungs to spasm and the agony to spike to another level of excruciating. Footsteps pattered across the floor and someone raised my wrist, taking my pulse.

  “She been awake long?” the light, female voice asked.

  “I don’t think so, but she’s definitely in pain.”

  Papers rustled. “The doctor said we could up the meds if she was in distress. I’ll do that now to see if we can get her comfortable. Did you hear me, Evangeline? I’m going to increase your pain medication. You have two broken ribs and we’ve reinflated your lung. That’s why you’re in so much pain right now.”

  I tried to nod to let her know I’d heard, but I think I just moaned and scrunched my eyes tighter.

  “That should help,” the nurse said.

  “Any word on the family?” Marilyn asked, her voice low.

  “You know I’m not supposed to answer that, Marilyn.”

  “Sue already told me the doctors had to remove the girl’s spleen.”

  “Sue isn’t supposed to talk to you either.” This time, censure filled in the spaces between her words.

  “She and I have been friends for nearly thirty years. Please, Marcy, I’m worried about that little girl. Evie will be, too, once she’s able to think coherently.”

  “I don’t know why I thought I could stand up to your manipulation.”

  “You can’t. And before you tell me it’s none of my business, I care a doggone lot about what happens.”

  Sigh. “The girl has some internal bleeding we’re monitoring,” Marcy said. “The doctors are still in the OR with the mom.”

  Marilyn’s voice dropped even lower. “What’s her chance?”

  “From what I saw, not good.”

  Oh, God. The accident. That vehicle—the one with the big white bumper—must have carried a family. No one mentioned the father. Had he been in the car? The mother—chances not good. She was like me, that little girl with her broken arm and no spleen. Like me because my mom left me, too. First to drugs, then to the parade of men. Gone when I needed her most.

  My thoughts fragmented and I couldn’t hold them together anymore, but tears continued to leak from under my lashes.

  2

  Kai

  Being in a popular band came with both perks and responsibilities—well, responsibilities to fans. My favorite “responsibility” was heading to the hospital to play for the sick and injured kids. Never would have guessed I’d enjoy the process, or the kids and their families, so much. I still wouldn’t if it hadn’t been for Clay—my band’s drummer, banjo, and rhythm guitar player—who dragged me to the Children’s Hospital cancer ward one day to cheer up his younger sister, Cassidy. Cassidy had been in and out of the hospital for three years because of Hodgkin lymphoma. Once Clay, Dane—our lead guitarist—and I played for the kids, and I’d seen the enthusiasm, hell, joy even, on those kids’ faces, I’d known I’d come back each week. At least until I graduated.

  And I did. I’d gone to the children’s hospital for nearly a year before Sue, a social worker and one of my mom’s friends, had pulled me aside and suggested I come here. “The kids at Harborview don’t get the attention the Children’s Hospital does. You should consider volunteering there sometime. Those kids are lonely. And there’s not much of a way to combat that, especially when it gets wrapped up in the despair of their situation.”

  “Why aren’t those kids at the children’s hospital?” I asked.

  “They’re dealing with the nonchronic stuff.” She sighed, her face falling into careworn lines that showcased the wrinkles around her mouth. “Abuse, maybe. Accidents. Harborview kids aren’t long-timers, but that’s why they’re overlooked. We all want to do something for the cancer patients. But, on the whole, children at Harborview tend to have difficult home lives. That’s why I think they’d appreciate the cheer-up your music can bring.”

  Unpleasant home life was something I could relate to, unfortunately. “Will do. Thanks for the heads up.”

  “Thank you, Kai. What you’re doing makes such a difference for these kids.” Sue shook her head, her short hair flopping against her ears.

  How much would it suck to be in the hospital with no known end date? Late January was dark and wet, demoralizing enough, but add to that broken bones or surgery and the forced solitude of a hospital bed seemed downright depressing. If the guys weren’t opposed to moving to LA or even Austin, I’d be out of the Pacific Northwest in a heartbeat.

  Couldn’t say it held the best memories for me. But until that day occurred, I’d continue to come here, hand out a few smiles in the form of songs, and wish like fuck my life was different than the disaster I woke up to every morning. It was still hard to believe my brother was gone, and an even harder pill to swallow was knowing my mother blamed me.

  I set my guitar on one of the brightly colored tables in the kids’ playroom. Good to see the Harborview folks were taking care of their younger patients, too.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked the nurse, Chelle, who seemed to be tasked with keeping an eye on me.

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to go in
and play to Paige first.”

  Something about the way Chelle was twisting her fingers signaled the alarm bells in my head. “What’s wrong with her?”

  Chelle sighed. “She was in a car accident. Her father didn’t make it.”

  I gripped the handle of my guitar case tight enough for the plastic to bite into my palm. “Her mom?”

  “The doctors aren’t optimistic.” Chelle bit the back of her thumb. “Paige wasn’t wearing her seatbelt. But, it might have saved her life because the next car plowed into the place she should have been sitting. The EMTs found her on the floorboards covered in glass.”

  “Why wasn’t she belted in? Or in a car seat?” I asked, disgust swelling with my anger.

  Simple things like that—strapping in a kid—pissed me off because my mom had been forgetful about those details. It’s part of what caused my parents to split. I’d coped by double- and triple-checking certain details, like locks or seat belts, even my shoelaces, which caused my mom more irritation but allowed me to feel in control. Not that my mother and I interacted all that much now. We didn’t have reason to.

  “Paige said her dad said she could lie down in the backseat and sleep. The accident occurred after ten, fairly late for a little girl to be out.”

  I cursed under my breath. “How old is the kid? Paige.”

  “Four.”

  I cursed again, not bothering to be so quiet. Chelle dipped her head in sharp agreement.

  “Lead the way.”

  Chelle pivoted, her feet moving in a no-nonsense rhythm over the linoleum. “We had to tell her about her dad this morning. She’s handling it, but…”

  “There’s no way to handle something like that,” I said, anger flooding me again, deeper and hotter this time. “When was the accident?”

  “Night before last.”

  She held open a door and I stepped into the room. A pale face was about all that showed above the sheets. Her kneecaps and toes poking up under the thin blanket showed how tiny she was.

  “Hi, Paige,” Chelle said in a soft voice. “You have a visitor. His name’s Kai Luchia. He’s in a band, and he wanted to sing a song to you.”

  I didn’t hear the girl’s response, but Chelle stepped back and motioned me forward. I took my guitar from its case and slipped the strap over my head. Guitar wasn’t my best instrument, but it was the easiest one to bring here. The chords weren’t a problem; I’d learned to play acoustic before the bass, but I would always be more of a rhythm player than a flashy lead guitarist. That was Dane’s wheelhouse. Somehow, Clay had talked me into singing, though, and I enjoyed working the vocals.

  “Hey, Paige,” I said, walking forward. I fell into doe eyes filled with so much hurt and confusion, I nearly lost my balance. I gripped the handrail, trying to absorb the shock of those long-lashed brown eyes staring back at me.

  Shiny blond hair, big brown eyes—this girl reminded me a bit of my friend Jenna. I hadn’t seen her since the day after she was admitted to the emergency room for an unintentional GHB overdose.

  “I get that you feel bad, Kai,” she’d said, her voice raspy from the vomiting. “But you know I never wanted a relationship. That’s why you liked hanging out with me. Don’t make that more now just because some slime ball thought killing Abbi and me was better than facing what he’d done to her before. That’s pickles and lollipops.” She turned away as I mulled her words, concerned for her and our friend Abbi, who’d also been admitted with GHB poisoning and a busted chin.

  Next time I went to see Jenna, her parents were in her room, and Jenna had avoided any one-on-one contact with me since.

  Chelle’s voice brought me back to the present. “Paige can’t talk very well right now because she was intubated. And the meds make her a little loopy, but she really likes music. Her toes move whenever we play it. We’ve tried to have it on pretty constantly since we noticed her reaction.”

  Those big eyes were an emotional punch to the gut. In some ways, looking into Paige’s eyes were like looking into mine—swirling with the fear of being left behind and with the certainty that there wasn’t a happy-ever-after at the end of this day…or the next…or the next. I forced a smile and strummed out a few chords. “I’m not sure what you like, so I’ll play my favorites.”

  I started with a Neil Young song before segueing into a Dylan tune. Her toes wiggled under the blankets a little, and I smiled. Next, I played one of my band’s most popular songs, testing to see if she’d heard it on the radio. Her toes moved more frantically, and I smiled as I sang the lyrics.

  Chelle clapped. “Oh, she liked that one! I do, too. Thanks so much, Kai.”

  Paige’s smile was small, but it was real. “Come back?” she asked. Her voice was soft and rough, too hesitant for such a tiny person. “Play again?”

  I brushed her wheat-blond hair back from her little forehead, noting the numerous healing scratches there. “Sure will. Just for you.”

  This time, her smile grew around the breathing tubes, and my chest ached for all this girl had been through.

  “I’m scared,” Paige said.

  Paige’s small body healed so much faster than I would have expected. Doctor Ngu speculated that Paige might be ready to leave the hospital in another three weeks. Sue, who’d taken over her case until Paige’s mother recovered, hadn’t yet lined up a foster home. Sue hoped Paige’s mom would be able to leave the hospital when Paige did, but, after undergoing three surgeries to try to stem the internal bleeding, the prognosis wasn’t looking good.

  I was antsy, too. If her mom wasn’t well on her way to healing by the time Paige was healthy enough to leave the hospital, I’d do whatever I could to help ensure Paige went to the right foster family, a good one, until her mother could care for her again. No way was I letting this little girl with those big scared eyes get beat up further. Not if I could help it. The drive to do so was, in part, because I saw myself in her. Scared and lonely, unsure who would protect me from forces I couldn’t control.

  I laid down my notebook, my eyes catching on the phrase I’d scribbled: From the first…

  No idea where I was going with that one. Hadn’t worked on a tune or even another lyric. But, for some reason, those words grabbed me, flitting through my mind at odd times and keeping me from completing the lyrics for the new composition Clay had played for Dane and me in the university’s practice room this morning. If I didn’t get my shit together, Clay would take over writing the lyrics, which left a sour taste in my mouth. I liked writing songs—well, the lyrics. I liked come up with the patterns and linguistic melodies that prompted people to sing along. But the actual melody I left to Clay. He had a much better ear for harmonies than I did.

  I’d spent a few hours at the hospital most days, mainly because I couldn’t hang out with Dane and Nessa like we used to—before Abbi and Jenna were poisoned with GHB by Abbi’s ex-boyfriend and his crazy cousin. Since Jenna returned to Austin as soon as she was released from the ER, an underlying sense of blame permeated our apartment that Nessa couldn’t quite hide. Or maybe I was inundated with guilt. I missed Jenna’s laughter and her crazy antics almost as much as I missed the game we played, twisting around each other but never falling into the trap of more than friends. She’d been right to call me on it—we were pals. But our business felt unfinished, and I worried Nessa blamed me for Jenna’s refusal to return to school at Northern, that I was the reason Nes no longer had her BFF close by.

  “Scared happens,” I said, struggling to pull myself out of my thoughts. Paige deserved my full attention. “That’s an emotion. It can’t hurt you.”

  “My mommy’s sick. I gots to see her yesterday but she didn’t waked up even when I asked her to.”

  Much as I wanted to plug my ears at the fear in Paige’s little voice—a fear I’d lived through with Jenna, and before that, with my brother—with an effort, I shook off the images of Marcus and took Paige’s hand, trying to offer some comfort. The kid was only four. She needed someone stable and positive in
her life. The best she had was me, and I wasn’t known for either of those qualities.

  Her bottom lip trembled. “What’ll happen to me?”

  “Your mom’s going to get better, and you’ll go home with her.”

  “But what if she doesn’t?” Paige pressed. She did this often, needing to look at every scenario before she’d willingly drop a topic. “Do I gets a new family? What if I don’t like them? What if my new mommy yells even more than my mommy?”

  I reached out and grabbed Paige’s small hand. “No one is going to replace your mom, Paige. You can love her forever.”

  “But I gots to go live somewhere else. I want to go home to my house and see Flurfy.”

  The second time I’d visited Paige, she’d told me all about Flurfy, her pet bunny. Soon after, I’d stopped by her house to look for the rabbit, only to find it stiff with rigor mortis in its pen. If I’d arrived even ten minutes earlier, the rabbit might have still been alive. I didn’t have the heart to tell her any of that, so I’d told her someone must have taken it to care for it. A lie, sure, but I figured this one was for a really good cause. Just like me burying the little corpse under the flowers had been.

  Marcy, another of the day nurses, strolled into the room. I raised my chin at her, but for the first time since we met, she didn't smile back.

  “You have someone who wants to visit you, Paige. If that’s okay.”

  Marcy rubbed her hands down the side of her scrubs, which blasted my internal radar.

  “Who is it?” No one visited Paige over the last four days I’d been coming.

  “Her name’s Evangeline.”

  Paige settled back into her bed, looking smaller than usual. She reached over and clasped my fingers, hard. I tried not to wince. The kid was only in preschool, but her grip was tighter than most MMA fighters.