Read Coming Home Page 12


  “Dad,” Dayne was the first to speak. “You don’t look good. You feeling okay?”

  “Yeah.” Brooke tried to laugh, but it sounded forced. “You’re supposed to be smiling. You look faint.”

  The conversation drew the attention of the others and John tried to smile, tried to dissuade them from asking further questions. The possibility was too awful to even talk about. Especially now that he could relax, now that everyone was accounted for.

  “Seriously, Dad.” Ashley looked more worried than the others. “Did something happen? You really don’t look good.”

  Elaine held his hand, still beside him. She looked up and met his eyes. “Tell them, John.”

  “Tell us what?” Dayne was quick to pick up on the interchange.

  The room fell quieter than before. John cleared his throat. He hated repeating what Phil had told him. It was too horrible. But he had no choice now. “When we first pulled up I got a call from the hospital, from a doctor friend in the ER.” John reached for a glass of water and took a quick sip. His throat was still so dry he could barely form words. “He told me my daughter and her family had been hit by a truck on the highway.”

  “He said to get down to the hospital right away.” Elaine’s face was still pale, the near reality still clearly chilling for her as well.

  Across the kitchen, Ashley crossed her arms tightly in front of her and leaned into Landon. The others seemed to react to the news, also. John felt slightly confused by their response. “We had to come inside so we could make sure everyone was here.” He pushed himself to smile. “And you all are.”

  There was a long pause and Ashley looked from Kari to Landon. But it was Dayne who spoke first. “Dad … Erin’s on her way. She and Sam …” he hesitated and looked at Luke and then Brooke. “They should’ve been here by now.”

  If someone had dropped the floor from beneath him, John couldn’t have felt himself falling harder, faster. He leaned on the counter and hung his head. It couldn’t be Erin and Sam. It wasn’t possible, right? He had begged God to spare him from something like this.

  “John.” Elaine was beside him, her arm around him. “Honey, are you okay?”

  Before he could look up, Brooke’s cell phone rang. She had it in her hand, as if somehow she was expecting the call. All eyes in the room turned to her, even while the kids played outside unaware of the possible tragedy unraveling in the kitchen. Brooke held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  Whoever was on the other line and whatever they said, it happened fast. Brooke looked suddenly ashen and she mumbled only a few words before hanging up. When she did, tears welled in her eyes and her voice was a strange mix of a tortured whisper, and the most guttural shriek. “That was Peter.” She pressed her fist into her middle and seemed to try to catch her breath. Kari and Ryan came up on either side of her and held her up. She shook her head, desperate to get the words out. When she looked up the truth was as clear as air. Even before she said the words. “It’s Erin. We … we need to hurry.”

  A plan came together immediately, but everything about it felt like some strange surreal dream. All his life as a doctor in the emergency room, John had wondered about the most severe accidents. The ones where the tragedy was widespread. A group of four teenage boys who all drowned when they fell through thin ice ten winters ago … or a carload of teenagers all killed when they tried to pass an RV on a country road late one fall night.

  How did anyone handle such a thing?

  Not that the Baxter family hadn’t suffered its fair share of tragedies. Landon’s near fatal injury in the house fire thirteen years ago and Hayley’s near drowning. Ashley’s baby Sarah and certainly losing Elizabeth to cancer.

  But the magnitude of today’s news threatened to overshadow them all. John’s body flipped into function mode, a self-defense mechanism he’d learned long ago working in the emergency room. The adults called the kids into the house, and they explained the situation. Aunt Erin and Uncle Sam had been in a car accident. The older kids — Cole and Jessie and Maddie — all wanted to go to the hospital. Elaine and Reagan offered to stay with the others.

  “Is someone hurt?” Devin’s eyes were big and full of tears. He walked around the group of adults — all of them trying to figure out who would ride with whom and whether they should bring anything to the hospital. Devin tugged on Ashley’s T-shirt. “Mommy, is someone hurt?”

  “Yes, baby.” Ashley pulled him close as if she desperately needed the reassurance of his hug. She kissed his blond head. “I think someone’s hurt.”

  Devin shook his head, reacting to the news before any of the adults dared to allow themselves to consider the gravity of the situation. The utter devastating gravity of it. Devin started to cry. “No, Mommy. I don’t want anyone to be hurt. Please … we have to pray for them.”

  John’s tears came then. Because of all things in a room full of people who loved Jesus more than life, it had been the child among them who had reminded them of the first order of business. The absolute desperate need to come together in prayer. “Devin’s right. We need to pray.” The world had turned upside down, but as soon as he made the statement about praying he felt gravity kick in once more, felt the world right itself. He held his arms out and took hold of Elaine’s hand on one side and Devin’s on the other. The circle came together quickly and through the heartbreaking sounds of tears and sobs from Devin and Hayley and RJ and Tommy.

  Landon took charge of the moment. “Father God, we don’t know what’s happened today, but our sister —” his voice caught and he struggled for several seconds. The kids were trying to stifle their tears, but the sound made it hard for all of them. Dayne cleared his throat. “Our sister Erin and her family have been in an accident. Lord, please hold them in Your arms and breathe healing into their bodies. Sustain us through the coming minutes and hours.” Tears filled his own voice. “Don’t let us walk this path alone, Father. Please. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  And with that they grabbed purses and water bottles and car keys and headed out the front door, each of them hurrying, feeling the desperate urgency.

  The whole while, all John could think was why hadn’t Erin told him? They had talked yesterday morning, after all. She’d said she was helping the girls with a cleaning project. John rode with Dayne and Katy, grateful for the ride. He could only sustain the left-brained doctor mode for so long. Especially if the news was bad — and he had the worst feeling that it was. That whatever had happened, this would be a day they would remember the rest of their lives.

  You should have told me, Erin, he thought to himself. He might’ve talked her out of it, convinced her that they should save Sam’s vacation time for Christmas, that it would be too great a burden on their family to make the two-day trip all for his birthday. But even as John formed the argument in his mind, he realized he was wrong. If Erin told him she was on her way to see him, he would’ve celebrated every minute until she arrived.

  That was the worst of it. John sat in the front passenger seat while Katy and Luke offered to take the backseat. He didn’t argue. He felt torn between flinging the door open and running to the hospital on foot so he might get there faster or throwing up out the window. Neither choice was really an option so on the drive to the hospital he kept his head in his hands. Erin never should’ve come. She should’ve been back in Texas with her husband and girls. Safe and whole. They could’ve talked on Skype that night. Even as Dayne picked up speed on the country road, John still didn’t want to believe it. Was it possible there was still a mistake? That she’d been telling the truth yesterday and had stayed home?

  His irrational thoughts left him exhausted. The worst of it was that this trip had been for him, to celebrate his birthday. Erin and Sam weren’t doing anything dangerous or crazy. They were trying to honor him the only way they knew how.

  By coming home.

  Thirteen

  BROOKE RODE TO THE HOSPITAL WITH KARI AND RYAN, AND BY the time they climbed into the car she was bac
k on her cell phone trying to find any information anyone would give her. But the details were sketchy, the prognoses for Erin and Sam and the girls too scrambled to make sense of. The only message Brooke couldn’t miss was the obvious one. They needed to hurry.

  She was about to make yet another call, this one to Peter, when she realized that beside her in the car, thirteen-year-old Jessie and Maddie were softly crying. Brooke slowly stopped the call and lowered her phone. What was she doing? The anxious phone calls would only trouble her niece more. She put her hand on Jessie’s knee and then on Maddie’s. “They have the best doctors working on them.”

  In the front seat Ryan was driving, Kari seated beside him. They held hands but neither of them said a word. What could they say? Instead of more phone calls, Brooke did what the rest of them in the car, what Landon and Ashley and Cole in the car in front of them, and Dayne and Katy and Luke and her dad in the car behind them were doing.

  She prayed.

  God … this can’t be happening. Let there be a mistake, please … let them be fine. Just a few stitches or a broken bone. Nothing serious, please, God.

  The prayer continued without a break until finally they pulled into the St. Anne’s parking lot. Brooke couldn’t help but notice several ambulances still parked outside the entrance to the emergency room. You’re a doctor, Brooke … you can handle this. She reminded herself between urgent prayers. But as she did she wondered how the rest of her family would handle whatever was next.

  What she had learned — what she hadn’t shared — was that Erin and Sam’s van had been stopped in traffic when they were rear-ended by an eighteen-wheeler. According to witnesses the driver never hit his brakes. The impact crushed her sister’s van and shot it into the cars in both lanes in front of them. In all, nearly twenty cars suffered some sort of damage, and the ER was full of injured people.

  The truck driver wasn’t one of them. He had died at the scene.

  But what she didn’t know — what she hadn’t been able to get from anyone, even Peter — was how serious the injuries were for Erin and Sam and the girls. In the distant analytical areas of Brooke’s brain, she knew that something was gravely wrong. Because of course Peter knew. The whole ER would’ve known if there were serious injuries caused by the accident. Very serious.

  If Peter hadn’t told her, it was because he didn’t want her to know until she got to the hospital. They walked across the parking lot, arms around each other in groups of twos and threes, all of them headed into the ER. Their dad looked like he might pass out, but still he took the lead. This had been his hospital, after all. The place where he’d worked for more than three decades. Whatever news was coming, he clearly wanted to be the first to hear it. Erin was his daughter, so it only made sense.

  Brooke stayed close behind, believing somehow that her medical knowledge might help. But inside she wanted to be like Kari and Katy who hung near the back of the group, almost as if they would’ve liked to have turned around and run the other way.

  Because once they knew the details, there would be no turning back.

  Their father walked up to the counter, but before he reached it a nurse spotted them. Her face looked grave and she spoke loud enough for them to hear. “John … everyone … I’m going to take you to one of the family rooms. Doctor Clancy will speak with you there.”

  Dr. Clancy? Phil Clancy? Brooke’s head began to spin. In the family room? This wasn’t good. Phil should be working to save her family, not meeting with them in the family room. People only went to the family room when … when …

  Jessie was crying quietly, along with Kari and Katy and Maddie and Cole. They kept their voices down, and wiped at their eyes as quickly as their tears came. But this much was clear. Everyone knew now that the situation was serious. Even the kids could tell. The nurse joined them in the waiting area and led them through a series of doors to a private room. “I’m sorry.” Her face was drawn, and Brooke noticed that her hands were shaking. “Dr. Clancy will be right in.”

  There were enough seats for all of them, and most of them dropped to one of the chairs or sofas. Their father prayed out loud, putting words to the things they were feeling. “This doesn’t look good, God. We are Your children, and we love You. We trust You even here, right now. We can’t get through this without You. Please … help us.”

  His prayer was absolutely needed. Brooke’s heart raced along at triple time. She wanted to burst through the door and run to the various ER examination rooms until she’d found Erin and her family. What was happening just a few doors and walls away? Maybe her sister needed her. She closed her eyes and tried to remember her father’s prayer. That God would help them through it. Brooke wanted to believe the Lord was with them, but she had never felt more alone in all her life.

  She opened her eyes and looked around the room. Dayne had one arm around Katy and the other around their dad. Beside them, Luke, Ashley, Landon, and Cole huddled together in a semicircle of four chairs. Brooke held hands with Maddie on one side and Kari on the other, and next to her was Ryan and their daughter, Jessie.

  She wasn’t sure how much longer she could sit here. The room felt like it was running out of air.

  “I’m going to go check on —” She didn’t have time to finish her sentence.

  The door opened and Phil Clancy walked in, his face a mask of what could only be described as grief. A grief doctors tried to prevent every day they reported for duty. Brooke hung her head. When she made the decision to become a doctor, she did it because in some ways it gave her a sense of control she wouldn’t otherwise have. Through knowledge and the practice of medicine she had learned how to affect the health of her patients. In some cases she had even been able to save lives. The knowledge that she could help in a situation that might otherwise be helpless was something Brooke loved most about being a doctor.

  But here … as they waited for Dr. Clancy to give them the news, there was absolutely nothing Brooke could do. She closed her eyes and waited.

  “The accident was very bad. I’m so sorry, John … Brooke … the rest of you.” He shut the door behind him and sat in one of the remaining open chairs.

  Brooke looked up and found that everyone else had their eyes on the doctor. Only her father would know how very grave the situation must be in order for the news to come to them this way. In less than a few seconds, while Phil gathered his thoughts and seemed to struggle for a way to say whatever he had to tell them, Brooke looked at her father and noticed something. For all the ways he had taken care of himself and surprised people with his actual age, in this moment he looked like he’d aged ten years in an hour. He sat up a little more, still leaning against Katy. “Are they all alive? Can you tell us that?”

  The doctor’s hesitation told them that the worst possibility was now a reality. Brooke held her breath while he continued. Around the room Kari put her hand to her mouth and Ashley began to shake her head. Jessie cried out and buried her head in Ryan’s shoulder.

  Brooke wanted to ask them all to be quiet. Dr. Clancy wasn’t finished, and he needed to get the words out, needed to tell them exactly what they were dealing with.

  “I’m sorry.” Phil looked from John to the others, finally meeting Brooke’s gaze. “We’ll need your help identifying the girls.” He paused. “One of them is gone.”

  “No!” Kari cried out first. “Please … no. Dear God … why?” She seemed to realize the doctor wasn’t finished, so she hung her head, her hand over her mouth again. Around the room all of them began to cry, doing everything in their power to listen, to grasp whatever else the doctor might say.

  Dr. Clancy sighed and waited a few seconds. “Two of the girls are on life support. We’ve done everything we can for them. One of the younger girls has a broken arm and some internal bleeding, but her injuries don’t seem life threatening.”

  “What about Erin and Sam? What about my daughter?” Their father’s voice was strained and raspy.

  “They’re in surgery. We’re try
ing to save them.”

  And like that they had the news. Ashley cried out next. “No … please, God! She stood up and faced the wall of the family room, burying her head in the crook of her elbow. “Why? God … tell me why?”

  Cole began to cry harder, and Landon wrapped his arms around the boy. Kari was crying, too, uttering a series of nos and whys and across from her Katy stood and went to Ashley. The two of them sobbed, holding each other up. Dayne was about to move to his wife, at least it looked that way, but then their dad began to sway. He looked pale and sweaty. He leaned back and rested his head against the wall. When he tried to talk his voice was a slur of mumbles.

  “Someone help him!” Luke shouted, his tone angrier than he probably meant it. “He’s passing out!”

  Brooke stood and went to him. Where was Peter? He had to know they were here. She needed him now more than ever. She put her hand on her father’s shoulder. “Dad, take deep breaths. Put your head between your knees. Come on.” She helped her father lower his head and then she turned to Dr. Clancy. “Phil, can you get him a cold cloth and some smelling salts?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Dayne sat in the chair beside their father, and now he used all his strength to keep him from falling to the ground. “He’s out.”

  “He’ll be okay.” Brooke was surprised at the calm in her voice. The news was still dancing just outside the distant perimeter of reality, but as the doctor hurried off for the cold cloth and smelling salts, Brooke had no choice but to play it again in her mind. One of the girls was gone. Two were on life support. Erin and Sam were in surgery, their situation critical. Then she remembered the other aspect of Dr. Clancy’s news. The girls needed identifying. She ran her hand over the back of her father’s head. “It’s okay, Dad, breathe deep.”