I sprinted across my front lawn, up the stairs, and into the house. I shouted for my parents while I ran to the house phone, and then I dialed 911. As I waited for someone to answer, Dad ran into the kitchen. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Mom was on his heels, tightening her robe around her waist. I pointed at Luke’s car through the window.
“It’s Luke. His whole left side is swollen and purple, and he’s barely breathing.”
Dad raced for the front door. I shoved the phone into Mom’s hands and took off after him. We rounded the corner together, and when he reached Luke’s car, he opened the driver’s-side door and crouched down. I leaned over his shoulder.
Dad felt his wrist, like I had, looking for his pulse, and when he couldn’t find it, he tried his neck instead. He lifted Luke’s shirt and pressed his fingertips below the bruise and above it.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Dad said.
“Is he going to be okay?”
Dad shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Shouldn’t we pull him out and give him CPR or mouth-to-mouth or something?”
“I don’t know, Hannah!” Dad’s voice shook. The sirens wailed in the distance. “That ambulance needs to be here now!” he screamed. Dad never screamed.
I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I rubbed them on my sweats. I wrapped them around the door frame and unwrapped them again. I kept my eyes on Luke’s face the entire time. I closed my eyes and prayed under my breath. “Please, Lord. Let him wake up. Please, let him wake up.”
“Luke!” Dad grasped his shoulders. “Come on, son, I need you to try to talk to me. Stay with me, okay? Help is on the way, but I need you to stay with me.”
The sirens grew louder.
Dad stood and wrapped his arms around Luke. I thought he was going to try to move him, so I stood by, ready to help, but he kept his head bent low and his mouth right next to Luke’s ear. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I could see his lips moving. And then I realized he was talking to him.
I could see the blue-and-red lights spinning now. The ambulance flew through the stop sign without even slowing down, and I waved my arms in the air, signaling it. I kept waving, even after it pulled to a stop right next to me.
The EMTs jumped out and raced toward the car. As Dad and I stepped away to make room, I heard a phone chirp. I felt for it in my pocket, thinking it was mine, and then remembered it was still inside on the kitchen counter, where I’d left it, mid-text exchange with Aaron.
And then I saw Luke’s phone on the floor in front of the passenger seat, screen bright, with a message waiting. I ran around to the other side, opened the door, and gagged again; the puke smell was even worse over there.
Emory: Where are you?!?
The phone was locked. I couldn’t reply, so I took off running for her house. The sprinklers must have come on at some point, because by the time I got there, my bare feet were covered in mud.
“Emory!” I screamed. I couldn’t quite reach the window, so I slapped my hand against the gray siding below it instead. “Emory!”
She pulled hard on the shade, and it snapped up. Then she slid the window open and leaned out. Her long hair dangled over her shoulders, barely covering the black lace lingerie thing she had on.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s Luke. Something’s wrong.”
She must have seen the glow from the ambulance lights around the corner, because her eyes grew wide and she left the window without saying another word.
I ran back to the car. By the time I got there, the whole neighborhood had gathered along the curb, dressed in sweats and bathrobes, watching the scene unfold. Dad was standing on the sidewalk with his arm around my mom.
Luke was already on the stretcher; they were wheeling him around to the back of the ambulance. Without thinking, I ran toward him.
“Wait!” I yelled as I slid in next to the gurney. I grabbed his shoulders and lowered my mouth to his ear.
And I said the first thing that came to mind.
Luke was blue.
I couldn’t see much from where I stood, but the skin on his left leg was blue and his whole body was rigid. His neck was twisted to one side at an uncomfortable-looking angle.
“Luke!” I screamed as I pushed my way through the crowd, fighting to get to him. But then one of the paramedics stepped in front of me and put her arm out, blocking my way.
“Please, let us do our jobs. Stay back so we can help him.”
“That’s my boyfriend!” I lunged forward, but she wrapped her arms around me and I couldn’t move. The other EMTs loaded the stretcher into the ambulance while I desperately tried to twist out of her grasp. “Please. I want to go with him!”
“I’m sorry,” she said as she loosened her hold on me. “Family only. You’ll need to follow us.” She let me go, climbed inside, and slammed the doors behind her.
The sirens blared, and the lights flashed, and the ambulance sped away, leaving me standing in the middle of the street. I wrapped my arms around myself, and that’s when I realized I was wearing a thin layer of sheer black lace. And nothing else.
Hannah’s mom was there in a matter of seconds, covering me with a bathrobe and leading me over to the curb.
“I have to go with him.” My voice didn’t sound like my own.
I didn’t even get to see him.
I didn’t get to talk to him.
“I already called your mom.” Mrs. J’s voice was clear and strong. “She’s going to meet us at the hospital, okay?”
I looked up, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “My mom? When did you call my mom?”
“About ten minutes ago. Right after I called nine-one-one. I called her cell and she told me she was in the city.” She led me to the curb. “She’s on her way to the hospital now. She might even beat us there.”
I only half heard her. I was still stuck on the first part. “Ten minutes ago?”
“Ten or so. Maybe a little longer. That’s about when Hannah found him and called nine-one-one.” Mrs. J handed me off to her daughter. “Take her back to her house and help her change. I’ll go get the car.”
Hannah rested her hand on my shoulder. For a heartbeat, I forgot everything that had happened over the last few months. I started to lean into her and let out the sobs that were building in my chest. “You okay?” She stepped closer, as if she was about to hug me. And it all came back to me.
“No.” I stepped back and her hand fell to her side. “It’s okay. I don’t need your help.” I walked away from her.
The neighborhood looked strange and fuzzy as I made my way to my house, like I was seeing it through dirty glasses. Inside my room, I was still in a daze. My hands were shaking as I pulled my yoga pants on, zipped up my sweatshirt, and stepped into my Uggs.
Music was playing softly in the background. When I first put it on, I wondered if Luke would recognize the playlist he’d made me; the one he said made him feel like I was in his arms. I’d been looking forward to teasing him about those words he said.
That was about thirty minutes ago.
Right after that, Mom had called to check in. I asked about her catering gig and she asked about my audition, and then we’d congratulated each other and decided we’d go out to celebrate on Saturday night, just the two of us. We exchanged I love yous.
As soon as we hung up, I’d texted Luke Goodnight.
That was about twenty minutes ago.
I looked around for my phone and found it on top of my dresser, right where I’d left it.
I’d been texting with Charlotte after I put on the black lace lingerie she dared me to buy in LA a few hours earlier. I’d been studying the way it clung to me in all the right places, feeling sexy and pretty, as I piled my hair on top of my head, then let it fall over my shoulders again.
Good call, I’d typed.
Told you! Charlotte replied.
See, t
his is why I never pass on a dare, I’d said, and she replied with laughing-face emojis.
That was about ten minutes ago.
Ten minutes ago.
Ten minutes ago, Luke was a hundred feet away.
Hannah and her dad were with him.
And I wasn’t.
I heard a horn honk.
Everything was still hazy as I grabbed my stuff and made my way to Mrs. J’s car. I collapsed in the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt, and then I turned to look at Hannah, expecting to find her sitting behind me. But she wasn’t there.
Back in the street, I’d pushed her away and said I didn’t need her, and she listened to me? The Hannah I’d known all my life never would have left me alone. Not like that. Not when I needed her. She would have forced her way into her mother’s car whether I wanted her there or not, and if the situation had been reversed, I would have done the same. What had happened to us? Were we that far gone?
“Do you know how to reach Luke’s parents?” Mrs. J asked.
My stomach dropped.
The Callettis.
I nodded, and as she backed out of the driveway, I dialed Addison’s cell phone number. I counted the rings. One. Two. Three. Four.
“Pick up,” I whispered as I tapped the side of my foot against the door.
“Hello?” Addison’s voice was deep and gravelly, and I could tell I’d woken her up.
My heart started pounding and my mouth went dry. “Something’s wrong with Luke.”
Hannah’s mom was kind, which was to be expected; I’d known her all my life and she’d never been anything else. As we sat side by side in the empty waiting room, she rubbed my back and handed me tissues from her purse (even though I wasn’t crying). She asked me if I wanted to find a bathroom so I could splash some water on my face. I politely thanked her and gave her a simple no. But then she held out her hands and asked, “Will you pray with me?”
I didn’t see the world the same way the Jacquard family did, but I’d always respected their beliefs. I held hands and bowed my head when we said grace at dinner, and gave Mrs. J a genuine thank you whenever she told me she’d been praying for me and my family—which seemed to happen a lot, especially over the last few years.
I didn’t feel like praying, but Mrs. J had been like a second mom to me and I couldn’t imagine saying no to her, so I let her take my hands. She squeezed them in hers. “I know it’s not your thing, but give it a chance. It might help. It always helps me.”
She bowed her head and I did the same. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she said. “We don’t always understand your will, but we know that you hold us in your strong, loving hands and comfort us when we are in pain. We need your comfort tonight, Lord. Bring peace to our heavy hearts. In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen.”
She opened her eyes. They were wet with tears. “I’m so sorry, Emory.”
Something was off.
That prayer wasn’t a prayer for Luke. She asked God to give us comfort, not him.
I pictured his body again—rigid, contorted, and blue—and the questions began swirling around in my mind. I opened my mouth, but then I heard someone yelling my name.
Addison and her dad were heading right for us. Luke’s mom raced toward the information desk. Mr. Calletti and Mrs. J shook hands, and I overheard her say, “My daughter was the one who found him.” She gestured toward the waiting-room seats. “Sit down. I’ll tell you everything I know.”
After the sirens silenced and my neighbors padded back into their houses, I sat on the living-room floor, staring up at the cross that hung above our fireplace. Dad stayed outside for a long time. He said he needed the fresh air and a little alone time with God.
It was after 1:00 a.m. when I finally climbed in bed. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t get the image of Luke out of my head. I pictured his lifeless body folded over the center console, his eyes half-open, and his skin colorless and cold to the touch. His full lips were parted, drool sliding down the side of his cheek.
My laptop was still open on my bed, and I stared at the screen, thinking about everything I’d been researching only an hour earlier. There was a knock on my door. I slammed the laptop closed.
Dad poked his head inside. “Can I come in?”
I nodded as I reached for the box of tissues.
He sat next to me, wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and squeezed me hard as I buried my face in his chest and let the tears fall. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
I felt my dad nod into my shoulder. “Yeah, sweetie. He was almost gone when you found him. He passed by the time the paramedics arrived.”
“How do you know?” The question came out in a squeak.
“I was the associate pastor for ten years. I spent a great deal of that time in hospitals, sitting next to bedsides, leading people through their final hours. I recognize death when I see it.” He gripped my hand harder. “The color of his skin, and the way his limbs began to change…” He stopped short and the room got quiet again.
“Why?” I whispered.
I wanted to know why Luke was hurt, and why he got behind the wheel of a car, and why Emory wasn’t with him—she was always with him when they pulled up to the house. I wanted to know why his phone was on the floor and why the passenger seat was soaked in vomit. I wanted to know why something so horrible had happened to him.
“I’ve been wondering the same thing.” Dad nodded knowingly. “If he’d gone to Emory’s house, you wouldn’t have seen him. If he’d parked anywhere else, he’d still be there, all alone. But he came here. You found him, maybe not in time to save him, but at least he didn’t die alone out there. He pulled up here. Under our kitchen window. And you happened to be getting a glass of water when he did. There’s a miracle in that, sweetie.”
I didn’t know how to tell Dad he’d misunderstood me. That I already knew that answer. Luke pulled up in front of our house because he always pulled up in front of our house on Friday nights. It wasn’t divine intervention; it was a booty call.
Dad kept talking. “I know it seems so unfair, doesn’t it? Why would the Lord bring someone into our lives and not allow us to help him? But I’ve been outside for a long time, thinking and praying and listening, and I finally realized that Luke wasn’t beyond help when he arrived—not in every sense. I believe he could hear me in those final minutes, Hannah, and if he could—if he listened to what I said and did what I told him to do, if he asked for forgiveness for his sins, and asked Jesus to come into his heart—he’s with Him now. I want to believe that’s why he showed up here. We couldn’t save his life, but I’d like to think we saved his soul.” Dad shook his head and said, “The Lord sure does work in mysterious ways, doesn’t He?”
I wasn’t in the mood. I didn’t want to hear Dad’s meant-to-bes or the everything-happens-for-a reason stories; I’d been hearing those my whole life. And I didn’t believe that God magically steered Luke’s car to my house, or made me thirsty at that exact moment, as if He had nothing better to do at the time.
I was tired of praying and crying and sitting there wondering what I could have done differently. I wanted answers—real, solid, tangible answers. I needed to move. I needed to act. And I needed Dad to leave, because if he spat out one more lame bumper-sticker saying, I was afraid I might scream.
“I’m exhausted,” I said. “Can we talk about this in the morning?”
He hugged me. “Of course. I’ll wake you up if your mom calls back.” He planted a kiss on my forehead. “You did a good thing tonight. But I’m so sorry you had to see that.” He patted my leg. “Let’s keep talking about this, okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered.
He left my room. A few seconds later, I heard his bedroom door open and close. I waited for a long time, listening to be sure he wasn’t coming back out. And then I tiptoed out of the living room and into the kitchen.
I looked out the window.
Luke’s car was still there.
The house was quiet, so I went to the front door and peeled it open. I raced back to Luke’s car, tiptoed over to the driver’s side, ducking down low, and lifted the latch. I slid behind the steering wheel.
As soon as I closed the door, the pungent smell stung my nostrils again, but this time, it was different: Luke’s car smelled like lemons and fresh-cut grass. The mess had been scrubbed from the passenger seat and the dashboard was spotless, too. And that’s when I realized how my dad had spent his “alone time with God.”
I felt a pang of guilt. Dad might have been flawed in some human ways, but deep down, he was such a genuinely good person. It was his way, to do something kind like that and never say a word about it. It made me second-guess how I’d been treating him lately.
I looked around. The rest of the car wasn’t quite as clean. There was a half-finished bottle of Gatorade in the cupholder and an empty bag of Funyuns smashed in the passenger side door pocket.
Inside the center console, I saw the usual stuff, like charging cables and earbuds. A tube of lipstick caught my eye, so I picked it up and gave it a twist. Deep red. I could see a color like that on Emory. I counted three unopened Mentos rolls and one that was almost empty.
Then I spotted a blue piece of paper on the floor behind the passenger seat. I reached behind me and picked up an envelope with an E on the front. I turned it over. Luke hadn’t sealed it. For a second, I wished he had.
I sat up taller in the driver’s seat and gave the neighborhood another quick glance. And then I curled myself around the steering wheel, worked the flap, and removed the card.
There was a small white heart in the center, and inside, in boyish-looking handwriting, his words:
Em,
I love you. I love seeing you rehearse onstage. I love watching you with your friends. I love the way you play with your hair when you’re nervous, and the way you look at me like I’m the most important person in the room. I love seeing you in my jersey. I love hearing you yell my name in the stands. I love our “goodnights” and I can’t wait to tell you “good morning.”