Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I will.”
The minute she hung up, I bent at the waist and braced my hands on my knees, trying to get my shit together.
Rachel was fine. The baby was fine. I was freaking out over nothing. I was getting myself worked up over nothing. It was just an accident.
“Sage!” I yelled as I walked quickly through the house. “Keep an eye on your brothers. I’m walking over to Megan’s real quick—I’ll be right outside!”
As I reached the front porch, I began to sprint, and by the time I was at Megan’s front door I was out of breath and on the verge of tears.
“Kate? What’s up?” Megan asked as she swung the door open.
“Can you take care of the kids? I have to go—the hospital just called.” A painful sob burst out of my throat, and I wiped my hand over my face to try to gain some control. “They said Rachel’s been in an accident. I need to get over there.”
“Sure, honey. No worries,” she answered before I was even finished speaking. “Caleb, get your shoes on, bud! We’re going over to the Andersons’ for a bit.”
“Woohoo!” I heard from somewhere in the back of the house.
“Did you call Shane?” she asked, sliding into some sandals by the door.
“I didn’t even think to,” I replied with a small shake of my head. “He’s rarely here. I forgot he was in town.” I felt like shit for not calling him, but I was so used to taking care of things while he was gone that it hadn’t even dawned on me. I’d driven Rachel to the hospital when she’d had Gavin, taken care of things when Keller broke his arm, and helped with a thousand other little events over the past few years. I stepped in every time he was gone, and I hadn’t thought about him for one second as I’d paced around the house that afternoon.
“We’ll be over in a minute. I’m sure she’s fine,” Megan assured me with a nod. “You better go get some shoes on and let the kids know I’m coming over for a visit.”
“I’m not telling them—” I shook my head and looked down at my bare feet. I hadn’t even noticed the hot pavement as I’d run across it barefoot. Why didn’t I put shoes on?
“Come on,” she said gently, pushing me away from the door as her kid raced out ahead of us. “We’ll walk you over.”
* * *
I’m not sure what I said to the kids about the reason I was leaving, and I don’t remember the drive to the hospital or even where I parked that afternoon. I can’t recall what the nurse looked like as she searched for Rachel’s name in their computer system or the walk toward the room where I waited for someone to speak to me.
The first thing I remember clearly is the white-haired doctor’s kind face as he sat down across from me, and the young chaplain’s small smile as he chose the chair to my left. Their words became a litany that I would hear in my dreams for years.
My Rachel was gone, but her son was alive and in the NICU.
“Is there anyone you’d like for us to call? Any family or friends that you’d like to be here?”
The question jolted me out of the fog that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker around me. Dear God.
“I’ll make the calls,” I answered, looking blankly at the wall. “Can I have some privacy please?”
“Of course. I’ll be right outside if you need me,” the chaplain answered, reaching out to pat my hand. “I’ll take you up to the NICU when you’re ready.”
The room was silent after they left, and I fought the urge to scream at the top of my lungs just to hear it echo around me. I understood then why people hired mourners to wail at funerals. Sometimes the lack of sound is more painful than the anguished noise of a heart breaking.
My hands shook as I pulled my phone out of my front pocket and rested it on the table in front of me.
It only took a moment before the sound of ringing filled the room, and I rested my head in my hands as I stared at the name across the screen.
“Hello? Kate? What’s wrong?”
“Shane—” I said quietly, my voice hitching.
“What? Why are you calling me?” His voice was confused, but I could hear a small thread of panic in the urgency of his words.
“I need you to come to Tri-City hospital,” I answered, tears rolling down my face and landing on the glass screen of my phone, distorting the letters and numbers.
“Who?” His voice was frantic, and I could hear him moving around, his breathing heavy.
“Rachel was in an accident.” I sobbed, covering my face to try to muffle the noise.