by Unknown
“Holly, listen, I didn’t want you to worry but…” I raised my eyes to question and sat across from him. “I got a call a week ago that Andy’s team hadn’t responded and disappeared. I didn’t want to worry you. They assured me that the divers were probably fine but protocol was to call it in. Today they’ve called me and it’s way worse. Their main ship was found abandoned and damaged, no sign of the divers and no radio call for 8 days now. The officer I spoke to said they won’t close the case but considering their location and nature of the dives they were doing they’ve all thrown in the towel.”
I stood up, “What!? Thrown in the towel?!”
“He said they wouldn’t stop looking but that from the way it seemed there was little to no hope.” I sat silent. It would do no good to be angry, I heard what words he was given. I stared of with a surge of desperation creep up and put my face in my hands and just cried.
“We just have to wait to hear,” he said, and hugged me.
Those days were long and there was something much bigger to pass the time about now. I didn’t take bubble baths. I didn’t get massages. Or shop. Or read. I just stared off and waited. Meanwhile there was a bigger worry brewing in the back of my mind, which with what was going on, I could only keep private. Mother would come over to comfort me and bring me food but with all the emotions and lack of definition to life, I felt helpless. I missed him. He was the sweetest man alive, he just couldn’t go like this. Andy wasn’t much of a fighter, he was strong and would surprise you, but… I just couldn’t accept that he was gone.
Cash was out of sorts, too and began to drink heavily to forget everything, and he didn’t know what to do. He kept saying he wanted to go find him, but knowing he didn’t have a clue where to look or how to do it better than who was already, he stayed with me.
The summer began to look hot out and I barely left the house, I just couldn’t bear to do anything. I often found myself just standing at the window and staring out. Life with only us two would not do. Half of my whole heart was in his hands.
Mother came one day and gently insisted I come with her out to have some lunch, just to get some fresh air. It had been four weeks since Andy’s crew had completely disappeared and still no one had heard a thing.
She managed to cheer me up with her perfect motherly way, convincing me to stay strong and not lose hope and think about what Andy would want me to do. I shed a tear but with a bittersweet half smile, and rose to put some real clothes on.
I put on a dress to perk me up and in the back of my mind was something I also wanted to speak with her about, personally. I knew just the one, the Alexander McQueen silk chiffon sweet pea gown I had been saving for something special and for the day and purposes it was perfect. We ate al fresco and I turned down wine.
“I’m surprised with everything going on that you, too haven’t been drinking more. I always do when I’m really stressed about something to take the edge off. Although Cash has taken things a bit far by the looks of his eyes, I understand why. How has he been?” Mother asked.
“Not so good,” I said, “but having me to take care of helps him hang in there… I haven’t wanted alcohol though, lately.”
We ordered and ate and I stared off a lot the way I had been. With thoughts of emptiness and Andy at sea. Praying. It was so good to be with mother, and really just being with her relaxed and energized me. I wanted to talk to her about what was on my mind so bad but I just couldn’t find the words. Something was missing, it wasn’t time yet.
We pulled up to the house and she offered to walk me up but I told her I’d be okay and how lovely the afternoon was and thanked her and hugged her. Before I went in to our place I happened to glance at my phone, which I realized had been off, when I saw 29 missed calls!
My heart was skipping beats and it was Cash calling. What happened? I started panting, and felt I just couldn’t take it, couldn’t take any news. He wouldn’t call me like that unless it was big news or he really needed me badly. I walked up to see if he was home before calling him and didn’t see him, so I went to call him on his cell when I thought I heard his voice outside. I went out the living room doors to the terrace and nearly had a heart attack. Andy!
Andy! I ran crying to Andy and Cash sitting on the terrace and they stood, I jumped to hug Andy and never let him go. I sobbed my eyes out and held him so tight. With my tear covered face buried in his chest I didn’t care where he had been I just didn’t want to ever let him go. I looked at Cash and he was wiping the tears running down his cheeks.
“We were going to die, Andy,” I spoke out crying, looking into his eyes, “we were going to die without you.”
He hugged me so tight and so gently saying, “I’m so sorry babe, I’m okay. I won’t leave you. I’m right here.” I held on to him tight and from the side looked at Cash and outstretched my arm for him to come and take my hand. He came near and I looked at both of them with crying tears.
Still sobbing, I said, “I’m pregnant.”
Both of their jaws dropped and I don’t remember the remarks of shock but with smiles and confirmations it quickly turned to sobbing laughter and we were all hugging. I cried through my tears how I’d known for a while, and couldn’t bear to think of it with him gone.
“It must’ve been that morning, my birthday,” I said. We were the happiest three we could be. We didn’t know who’s it was, we didn’t know if it would be a boy or a girl, but we knew—all of us now, that we were going to have a baby, a family. Being submerged in the most beautiful and sweet love in the world, all my worries about us having a child melted away as all the other worries did and I knew we were going to be just fine.
THE END
Another bonus story is on the next page.
Bonus Story 9 of 10
A Faith Much-Damned
Little Stephen was watching his favorite show – Curious George. It is a show about a monkey that is always getting into trouble because of his curious, and meddlesome ways. In a way, the cartoon monkey, George was like the human, Stephen.
Stephen was always getting into trouble and destroying things. The little boy just loved to experience and savor life. On one occasion, he jammed marbles into the family’s DVD player because he was told to put them away. He couldn’t find his play bucket, so he improvised. On another occasion, he gave his Labrador dog a lollipop that he didn’t like. He reasoned that it would be good not to waste the lollipop.
And that was his life. He drifted from one ‘code red’ to another. Some were cute and funny, while others were more serious and traumatic. In essence, he was the problem-child that reminded his parents, Doug and Sheila, of Dennis the Menace. One of the greatest sources of annoyance with him, was that he would take stuff and not give it back. Thus, they often referred to him as “Thieving Stephen”.
There was one, God-awful, tragic day that was short of theft, however. Stephen was a young man who really loved to play soccer. Sure, he didn’t fully understand many rules or mechanics of the game, but he loved to play. He loved to kick the ball around. His goals in playing the game were always basic – kick the ball as hard as possible, as many times as possible.
That’s exactly what he did on one afternoon. He managed to sneak his way outside and grab the soccer ball in the front yard. Truthfully, his father should have picked up the ball and put it in a safe place – perhaps the garage. Regardless, that’s not what he did.
Stephen ran back and forth in the front yard and was kicking the ball as hard as he could. It zoomed through the air and thudded onto the plush grass. He raised his arm playfully and booted the ball toward the street.
It made two bounces and rolled into the street. He knew he messed up. Even a five-year-old often understands when they have done something wrong. He heard subconscious voices in his head from his father – telling him candidly not to run out into the street. “If the ball goes into the street, you tell mom or dad. Don’t chase the ball! Okay?”
He weighed his options as best he could. If he told mom or dad,
they would be upset about him being outside – because he snuck out. That wouldn’t be good. On the other hand, if he quickly went to get the ball, got it, and put the ball back, his parents wouldn’t know. If they didn’t see him sneaking outside, then they probably wouldn’t see him grabbing his ball – especially if he did it quickly.
He went for it. He looked left, and then right. No cars. He remembered to always look both ways before crossing the street. He gulped nervously and darted into the road.
Technically speaking, there were no cars coming – from what he could see. A five-year-old normally wouldn’t be able to conceptualize grading and a ‘blind’ drive. He had one in front of his house, though. His house was on a lower portion of a steep hill. There was an SUV coming from the other side of the hill, but he couldn’t see it.
His heart was racing as he sped into the road and grabbed his soccer ball. He told himself he just had to get back into his yard, and everything would be okay. He scooped it up with both arms and made it just a few steps away and the Chevy Tahoe was dangerously close.
The driver was paying attention, but that still wasn’t enough. He didn’t hit the horn because he instinctively slammed on the brakes. The older Tahoe didn’t have anti-lock brakes, so its tires locked and roared. He also flung the steering wheel to the side to try and miss. It failed.
Poor little Stephen met the front bumper of the SUV. It violently knocked him back as the asphalt slammed against his skull. After making several rolls over the pavement, he stopped and laid. He didn’t move at all. He didn’t even say a word. The only thing that moved was the soccer ball – which made just a few bounces.
“Oh my God!” shouted the Chevy driver who violently flung open his door and sprinted to Stephen. He put his middle and index finger on Stephen’s neck, and at least felt a pulse. “Young man? Can you hear me?!”
There was no response, no parents around, no medical professionals, and it wasn’t clear if the boy would live. The only clear fact was that he had probably come from the gray ranch house just a hundred feet away.
Wisely, the driver didn’t waste a moment’s time trying to guess what house he came from. He pulled out his smartphone and called 9-1-1. Within less than a minute, another horrified driver had stopped her Honda Accord and ran over to the awful scene. “What happened?! Is he still alive?”
The Chevy driver didn’t have time to converse with her. He was on the phone frantically explaining to the dispatcher what had happened. He raised his voice, pointed his index finger into the phone, and blabbed off frantic facts about what happened.
Doug and Sheila, at last, saw the commotion and Doug’s worst fears were confirmed – the young man in the street was indeed Stephen. His thoughts ran from anger, to panic, to sorrow. He was angry because Stephen yet again disobeyed him and refused to listen. He was panicked because he wasn’t sure if Stephen would live or die. He was deep in sorrow because of the horrific scene.
Sheila went to the grocery store and would come back in a short while, to see the terrible scene. At the very least, she wouldn’t have to witness her son literally being pulled off the street and put into an ambulance. Other than that, there was nothing positive to glean from it.
In less than five minutes, paramedics showed up, and they didn’t lollygag at all. They carefully got him onto a stretcher and hauled him off. Doug didn’t lollygag either, he broke tons of traffic and speeding laws as he followed the ambulance to the hospital. He didn’t know what to say, or think.
He rushed inside and saw two nurses stammering and pointing in various directions. They were calm, but deeply concerned. That was obvious. “Possible TBI, rush him to Maylin. Check SATS!”
The very concerned Doug tried to tail his young son into an emergency room, and was stopped by a nurse. “Sir, we can’t have you follow him in because we won’t have the space to work. Come this way and you can wait in here.”
After hurling profane remarks about how the patient was his ‘damn child’ and how a father deserves to know what is going on, he finally relented and waited in a separate room.
The room was hardly comforting at all. It really didn’t have much, just some magazines there that were three months old, some chairs, a couple of end tables, and a fuzzy television screen. It was hardly a place of refuge where someone could sooth their nerves when a family member was ill – seriously ill.
He called Sheila and told her the awful news. She rushed to the hospital after much crying and distressing. She shot tons of questions at Doug about what happened, how bad the injury was, how long he had been there, and so on. Truth be told, Doug didn’t want to hear her questions. He just wanted to know how his son was doing. “We’ll talk about that later, okay?”
There. He finally got her to stop yacking his ear off. And, really, did he care about her questions more than his son? Of course not. He cared about the health of his only son, who was hospitalized with a serious injury. They waited and waited some more.
Meanwhile, there was quite a scene at the police station where two police officers were interrogating the SUV driver, Scott. Scott is a man who has had some troubles with the law. He had already pleaded guilty to assault and battery regarding a bar fight from a few years ago. He had a couple of speeding tickets, and was known in the small, local town to be a low-life. His most notorious accomplishment was the fact that he escaped a robbery charge because of a technicality.
Scott had robbed a convenience store less than six months ago and was promptly arrested and charged. A key piece of evidence in the crime was collected illegally, and therefore, was inadmissible at trial. Scott had confessed to his then-spouse that he had robbed the store, and when the police had asked her about it, she initially refused to tell them anything. The investigating officer then threatened to jail her if she did not cooperate.
She then told the officer what Scott had said. A judge later ruled that since this communication was made between two married spouses, the communication was therefore privileged. Since the officer threatened her with arrest without informing her about the communication being privileged, or before she had the chance to speak to an attorney, the evidence was collected illegally.
Once that evidence was prohibited, the rest of the case was based almost entirely on circumstantial evidence. It wasn’t enough to convict. In short, ‘Not Guilty’ was rendered, and he became a free man.
A grumpy, middle-aged officer with salt and pepper hair pointedly questioned Scott. “Have you been using, or did you recently use any drugs or alcohol before the accident?”
Ironically, Scott was totally guilt-free on this occasion. He was driving his car down the road, slammed on his brakes and swerved as he tried to avoid hitting the child, and hit the child. “I know I’ve got a bad rap in this town, but I swear to God, I was just driving my truck. I tried to miss the boy, but I didn’t.”
A younger, less-seasoned cop who was also interrogating, followed up by asking his own questions. “So, just tell me from the beginning your version of what happened.”
Scott grunted. It was the third time he had given his testimony about the overall picture of what happened. “I was coming over the hill because I needed to go downtown to pick up a pizza. When I came over the hill, I saw the child in the road. He had a soccer ball in both hands and was walking to what I assume is his house. I immediately slammed on my brakes, and swerved to the side in attempt to miss him. God…Just thinking about this is awful. I didn’t miss him, and he hit the front of my Tahoe. When my vehicle stopped, I immediately ran out, checked his pulse, and called the police. And, here we are.”
The young cop threw together some sloppy notes on a notepad and hummed to himself when he was done. “Were you speeding?”
“No. I was not.”
The young cop pointed to the door of the interrogation room and the middle aged officer followed him. They had a makeshift meeting outside the room where they discussed the synopsis of what happened. The young cop began the chat. “What do you think?”
The slightly chubby, middle aged officer sighed in frustration. “We’ve got nothing we can hold him on. We’ve got no witnesses who saw the accident as it transpired. No evidence of drugs, alcohol, or speeding. We don’t have any evidence that he’s lying about what happened. The victim is a five-year-old kid! What motive would he have in harming the boy?”
The young cop nodded and waved his hand at the door to the interrogation room. “So, what now?”
“Cut him loose.”
*****
She spent over an hour in hysterics because her son was now on life support. She cried, prayed, and tried to gulp away the extreme pain and sorrow. She was angry at her son for running into the street to get the soccer ball, but a mother can’t stay angry at her five-year-old child for very long.
Dr. Mascow, the balding, soft spoken doctor finally entered the waiting room that contained the immediate family and close friends. There was Chuck, Stephen’s only brother. Naturally, Stephen’s parents – Sheila and Doug – were present. Also in the room was Kayla – who was, in many ways, like a daughter to the family.
Mascow had a grim look on his face. There were no smiles, no excitement, and the aura wasn’t warm and comforting. He puffed out a deep breath and pulled a wheeled stool behind him and gently sat down. Even his eye-contact was poor. He looked right at the chart and just started talking. “I’m so sorry. These kind of situations are the worst for us doctors. Your son is alive, but he has been badly injured.”
Doug firmly, but lovingly held the hand of the crying Sheila and made himself the talker of the group. “Just how bad is it? What are his injuries?”
Mascow grunted and winced his eyes together. “When he was hit by the truck, it struck his collar bone, which is now broken. It is evident that he then fell back and badly twisted his arm, because his shoulder is now dislocated. When his head slammed against the ground, he had what we call a traumatic brain injury. It was close-headed, but still very bad.”