Tiny beads of ice hit the windshield and piled up in the recess between the wipers. Every few seconds, a larger chunk of ice hit the hood with a thunk.
She checked her rearview mirror, trying to spot Chase’s car, but all she could see were a few spots of hazy light in the deluge behind her. Thank goodness there wasn’t much traffic on the road right now.
They needed to find someplace to get under cover. She could barely make out the taillights of the cars in front of her, let alone the terrain surrounding the highway.
Without taking her eyes off the road, she groped for her phone in the passenger seat but before she could call Chase, her phone was ringing his tone.
“Hey? You okay up there?” He sounded as worried as she felt.
“I can’t see a thing, Chase!”
“I know. We need to get out of this. Pull over under the next overpass you come to. But be careful. Don’t slam into another car. Everybody’s going to be trying to get over and—” He cut out.
She hit End and tucked the phone under her leg on the seat.
A few seconds later, a shadow passed above her, but by the time she realized it was an overpass, it was too late.
She tapped the brakes, then worried that she’d get rear-ended by the car behind her.
Another mile and the hail pelting her car turned the size of marbles. Her phone rang again. Chase. She didn’t dare take her eyes off the road, but she desperately needed to hear his reassuring voice. She held the phone up near the top of the steering wheel long enough to press Answer. “Chase?”
She heard his voice—heard him say her name—but he was cutting out every other word.
The hailstones grew larger. Some of them looked as big as golf balls, and the noise pounding her from every direction was deafening—like someone had set off a whole package of firecrackers at once. “Chase, I can’t hear you! I missed that last overpass, but I’m pulling over under the next one. The car is getting totally hammered. Can you hear me? Chase?”
The racket on the roof of the car was so loud she couldn’t tell if he answered or not. And things were likely even noisier in his junker. At least the hail couldn’t make his ’79 Toyota worth less than it already was. But they couldn’t afford to lose both their cars. She wondered what the deductible was on the Honda.
She shouted into the phone, not having a clue if Chase could hear her, since she could barely hear her own voice. “I’m pulling over the next chance I get.”
She tucked the phone back under her leg and risked a quick glance in the rearview mirror. The headlights in the mirror seemed too close and she sped up slightly. Blinking, she tried to focus on the road, desperately hoping to see the shadow of another overpass ahead.
The hail came down harder—if that were even possible—and Landyn could see the dents each icy stone left on the hood of the car. Without warning, red and yellow taillights loomed immediately in front of her. She screamed and slammed on the brakes, clutched the steering wheel with both hands.
The lights disappeared as quickly as they’d come but suddenly the sensation of falling was strong. She held her breath, trying to get her bearings. The pounding hail continued, only now it sounded like it was coming on her left side. Her head felt heavy, as if she were hanging upside down. Stomach churning, she grabbed in vain for something to hold on to with her left hand. But her right hand went instinctively to her belly, cradling the baby—her and Chase’s baby.
Oh, Lord, save us! Save my baby!
28
Chase frantically scanned the horizon, but all he could see was a wall of water and the hailstones that continued to batter his car. Landyn had sounded terrified on the phone. She hated driving in the rain, but this was beyond any rain he’d ever seen.
The rubber on his windshield wipers was almost threadbare, and they grated and screeched across the glass at their highest speed. But for all the racket they made, they couldn’t seem to clear more than a thin swath for him to view out.
He could make out a string of red lights in the mist ahead. He slowed his car and the dark shadow of an overpass loomed above him. It took a minute before he realized the cars were piling up beneath it trying to get out of the storm.
He braked and pulled as close to the next car as he could, but he still felt the jolt of an occasional hailstone hitting the back end of his Toyota. He put an arm over the back of the passenger seat and maneuvered as close to the edge of the road as he could get without going off the shoulder. He turned on his hazard lights and prayed he didn’t get rear-ended.
And he prayed for Landyn. And their baby. With no view and no sense of where they were he felt disoriented. His phone said five fourteen, but he couldn’t remember how long ago they’d left the gas station at their last stop.
He dialed Landyn again but five rings and it went to voice mail. He tried to tell himself it was just the weather messing with reception. But he had a bad feeling.
They’d gained some daylight traveling west, but it would be pitch dark soon—although sunset couldn’t make the sky any darker than it was right now.
The shoulder and median under the overpass filled up with vehicles. Drivers parked six abreast and at least as many deep, trying to get beneath the shelter of the bridge. Chase couldn’t see more than a halo of light at the other end of the overpass, but with all the parked vehicles, the highway was already down to one lane. If they kept narrowing the road with this jam of cars, somebody was going to get hit for sure. He thought about getting out of the car and trying to direct traffic so he could get through to find Landyn, but when he saw the dent a stray golf-ball sized hailstone left in the hood of his car, he realized it could be suicide to get out of the car now.
He inched forward as the cars in front of him did the same, trying to make room for more vehicles under the overpass. All the while he dialed Landyn again and again, willing his eyes to find the only thing he cared about seeing right now—her Honda.
After the longest three minutes of his life, the hail began to let up in the reverse of how it had begun, thinning to marble-size, then ice pellets, until finally nothing but the incessant clatter of rain pelted the back half of his Toyota.
The driver of the car in front of him revved its engine and inched forward, tacitly urging the cars ahead of them to do the same. Finally people seemed to trust that they could leave their makeshift storm shelter. They filed out in a stream of uncertainty.
He tried Landyn again. Why wasn’t she answering her phone? He had four bars, so they were in range of a cell tower. Going no faster than thirty-five or forty miles per hour, the little caravan drove through the rain. Chase kept one eye on the slow traffic in front of him while constantly panning the ditch for any sign of the Honda.
He followed the ragtag group of travelers under another overpass where they picked up the stragglers who’d apparently been too frightened to leave the temporary shelter of the bridge and buttresses.
No more than a mile past the second overpass the rain lifted a bit and visibility improved. Chase tried Landyn’s phone every couple of minutes, with the same result.
Another mile and he saw a knot of vehicles and flashing lights. Emergency crews directed traffic around another clump of cars. No doubt someone had been rear-ended in the storm. Lord, don’t let it be Landyn. Please, God—
The car ahead of him slammed on its brakes and Chase did likewise.
A glimmer of waning light shot through the clouds on the western horizon bathing everything in a greenish gold light. Broken branches dangled from trees like broken human limbs, and mounds of hailstones were piled like snowdrifts along the edge of the road as far as the eye could see.
Despite the muted chatter of the emergency personnel, the squawk of a police radio, and the murmurs of the bystanders, everything seemed eerily quiet—as if he were hearing it all from the depths of a tunnel. Then the distant wail of a single siren crescendoed toward them. The air smelled . . . odd. A musty mixture of earth and rain, and something else. Acrid, like rub
ber burning.
The small crowd gathered by the edge of the road craned their necks, looking down into the northern ditch. Chase got out of the car, stood on tiptoe, and strained to see what they were looking at, but his line of sight was blocked by half a dozen cars parked on the side of the road behind two fire service vehicles and a sheriff’s SUV.
He threw the car in Park and jumped out. Rushing toward a group of men at the edge of the knot, he shouted, “What happened? Anybody know?”
A man pointed. “There’s a car rolled over. Down in that ravine.”
“Did anybody see the car that rolled over? I’m looking for my wife!” Chase shouted to anyone who would listen. “She was ahead of me in her car. She drives a white Honda.”
A white-bearded man put a hand on his shoulder. “Can’t see anything from up here, son, but they’ve got guys down there now working around some car.”
Chase strained to see through the brush and rock below. His mind raced with scenarios he wasn’t willing to entertain, but the possibilities shoved their way into his mind unbidden. He shouldered through the crowd and scrambled down the steep ditch, somehow knowing before he even saw the car, that it was hers.
And knowing that if it was, he was getting what he deserved. He hadn’t taken care of Landyn the way he should have. He hadn’t wanted the baby she was carrying. Hadn’t been grateful for everything he’d been blessed to call his.
Still, when the workers pushed the brush aside revealing a glint of white-painted metal, his stomach lurched.
29
That’s my wife! That’s my wife in there!” Chase could not get enough air in his lungs to be heard. He yelled again.
The car was flipped on its side in the ravine. And though it was crumpled beyond recognition, there was no doubt it was Landyn’s Honda. His breath snagged again when he saw rescue workers pulling a body from the wreckage. Out of the passenger side door. A body he knew as well as his own.
“Landyn!” He slid the rest of the way down the slippery ditch.
“Sir, we need you to get back! Get back.” A uniformed woman raised a hand in warning.
“That’s my wife!” he said again. Couldn’t they hear him?
“Okay. Calm down. We’re getting her out.”
Chase craned his neck and saw them hoist her limp frame onto the stretcher. “Landyn! Oh, God, no! Landyn!”
He shoved through two emergency workers and scrambled for the gurney. When he got closer, he saw her eyes flutter. And his heart started beating again.
“You know this woman?”
Chase looked up to see a Highway Patrol officer. “Yes, sir. She’s my wife.”
“Chase?” Landyn’s voice was barely a whisper, but he heard it and charged forward, relief rushing over him.
“Landyn? You okay?”
“Oh, Chase. The baby! I . . . I wrecked the car! It’s—”
“Everything will be okay. You’re safe now.” Apparently they’d already encased her neck in a bulky brace, which sent alarm surging through his veins, but he did his best to hide it and leaned over her so she could see his face. He pushed sodden curls from her forehead and swiped at the swath of mud and blood streaking one cheek. He turned to the EMT. “She’s bleeding. Where’s the blood coming from?”
“Am . . . am I bleeding? Chase? The baby!” She reached for him, and he saw that her finger was bandaged.
“It’s just your finger.” An EMT restrained Landyn, telling Chase, “That finger will need sutures. We bandaged it best we could, but it does look like a lot of blood.” The worker touched Chase’s arm, nodding toward the road above them. “Sir, we need to get her up to the ambulance.”
Chase nodded, but stayed and helped the men as they hauled the stretcher up the treacherous incline.
“I tried to get out of the rain, but I couldn’t see and”—her voice turned frantic—“the hail was hitting the car . . .”
Chase wondered if she was in shock. “Shh. It’s okay. Just relax. Everything is okay.”
“It was so loud, Chase, and I—I tried to call you.” She strained, trying to look down the length of the stretcher, the only direction the neck brace afforded her except for straight up. Apparently she caught a glimpse of the bloodied bandage on her left hand again. “I’m bleeding!”
“No . . . No, remember, you just cut your finger. The baby is fine. You’re going to be fine, Landyn.” He wished he felt as certain as he tried to make his voice. “Does anything hurt?” Other than her finger, she didn’t have any visible wounds. But he glanced over at a female EMT with a questioning look.
Her eyes told him nothing.
Chase turned to the technician. “She’s pregnant. Did she tell you?”
“Yes, sir. We got it.”
“Be sure they don’t give her anything—”
“No, we won’t. But we don’t want her to go into shock. How far along is she, sir?”
“Almost five months.”
“Five months,” Landyn echoed, struggling against the straps on the gurney, which was now angled as they carried her head-first up the steep ravine. “Please help me.”
“Shh.” Chase put a hand on her shoulder. “You just rest. They’ve got everything under control.”
“I’m fine. I’m okay. But Chase, don’t let them give me anything that will hurt the baby.”
“Don’t worry. We won’t give you anything, ma’am,” the male EMT said. “Are you in any pain?”
“I—I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
For one awful second Chase wondered if she’d been paralyzed in the accident. But a moment later Landyn was struggling against the restraints again, all her limbs flexing with purpose. He sighed with relief.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Really, I’m okay. Just . . . let me get off of here. Please!”
“Ma’am, we need to have you checked out. I think it would be best if you let the ambulance take you to the hospital. There’s a good one just a few miles from here over in Carrollton.”
“No . . .” Her eyes went to his, wild. He knew instantly that she was worrying about the money.
Guilt hit him like a three-hundred-pound tackle. “I don’t care. You’re going to the hospital.”
“Chase. We can’t af—”
“Stop, Landyn. You need to let them check you out. Think about the baby.”
She sank back against the stretcher. Then immediately fought the straps again, trying to sit up. “My purse! Chase, all my stuff is in the car. You have to get it. All our stuff . . .”
“Ma’am, don’t worry about that.” The EMT looked at Chase. “The vehicle is stable, but be careful. The driver’s side door is wedged shut. We had to bring her out through the passenger side.”
“I’ll be right back, okay?” He patted Landyn’s right hand, then turned to the EMT. “Can I ride with her in the ambulance?”
“You have another vehicle up there?” He motioned toward the road. “Is it drivable?”
“Yes.”
“It might be best if you follow us in your car . . . Get it off the road.”
As much as he hated to leave Landyn, Chase saw the wisdom in the advice. Otherwise he’d have to get a ride back out here—or have the Toyota towed. That could be a while given the number of damaged vehicles this storm had likely produced.
The EMT pointed. “Just follow the signs for the hospital. It’s north off the interstate, down by the river.”
“Okay. Thank you, sir.” He leaned to kiss Landyn. “I’ll see you at the hospital. I’m right behind you. You cooperate with them, you hear me? Don’t worry about the money. We’ll figure something out.” He pulled back and studied her. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
She nodded, her eyes drooping, as if she were getting drowsy. She’d said she wasn’t in any pain, other than the cut on her hand—probably from the airbag deploying, he’d overheard one of the emergency crew surmise.
Chase scrambled back down the embankment. When he got a closer look at the Honda, his chest c
onstricted. Landyn’s car looked like someone had put it in a can crusher. How had she survived inside that mangled hunk of steel? He ran his hand along the concave metal that used to be the passenger door. The door they’d had to bring her out of because the driver’s side door was demolished. He stood in mute shock, feeling Landyn’s life—their life together—passing before him. Oh, God.
He felt desperate to see her now. Desperate to know she was truly all right. Moving quickly, he pried the door open far enough to pull out a few of her belongings. Her purse was wedged behind the driver’s seat, but he managed to extricate it from the wreckage. He surveyed the contents of the car, most of which were pinned in the backseat by the roof of the car, which was compressed to half its height. Her phone charger hung empty from the cigarette lighter, but no phone attached. Maybe it was in her purse.
He grabbed what he could carry and scrambled back up the ravine.
The crowd along the highway had thinned, but there were a couple of other cars that hadn’t fared well. Two with windshields decimated by the hail were being hooked up to tow trucks.
Feeling guilty for not offering help to those still stranded, yet feeling he didn’t have a minute to waste, he climbed into the battered Toyota and started the engine. He began to back up, but feeling lightheaded, he shifted back into Park, then gripped the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and held his hands out in front of him. They were shaking like Jell-O.
He didn’t have time to fall apart now. He put the car in gear, pressed the accelerator, and crunched over the ridge of hail that was already starting to melt. Landyn needed him.
And he needed her.
30
I can walk just fine. Please, can’t you just let me walk in?” Landyn tried to get up again but felt like she was in a straitjacket. She felt ridiculous letting them roll her in on the gurney, like she was headed to surgery.
But the stout orderly pressed her shoulder just firmly enough to get his message across. “Sorry, miss. Hospital regulations. You need to wait until after the doctor has looked you over.”
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