Page 7 of Shimmering Emeralds
The man looked me directly in the eyes as he spoke. “She’s stable, and I’ve done everything I can for her. We’ll arrive at the hospital soon, and the doctors there can take a look at her.”
His idea of ‘soon’ and mine varied wildly. It seemed like we rode in the large metal rectangle for eons, but eventually we slowed to a stop in front of the emergency entrance to our local hospital.
We went from no activity to a flurry of movement. Medical professionals wearing blue scrubs opened the back of our ambulance as soon as we pulled to a stop. They quickly and efficiently lowered Harper’s stretcher and headed inside the building, while the EMT shared with them the information he knew about her condition.
I struggled to keep up with them, and I could feel Levi right by my side. When we reached a double set of doors, the others ran through, but a nurse turned to stop us from following them. She held up her palm and said, “We’ll be out with an update on her condition as soon as we can. Right now, you need to go over there to check in.” She indicated a desk with two harried-looking receptionists. “Then have a seat.”
“Have a seat?!?” I yelled in a voice that was way too loud for the somber waiting room. Not caring a bit, I added, “That’s my daughter in there.My daughter. I need to be with her.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We’ll come out to update you as soon as we can.”
After repeating the tired sentiment that she probably uttered numerous times each day, the woman turned to leave.
I started to stalk after her, but Levi’s arms wrapped around me from behind. “Let them do their jobs, Meg. Nothing good can come from you going back there and distracting them from their top priority––taking care of Harper.”
Hearing my little girl’s name emerge from his lips made me whirl around to face him. The overwhelming fear and worry churning through my system suddenly swirled together into fiery anger as I glared up at Levi.
“This is your fault,” I accused.
Rather than denying it, he merely gave me a sad nod, silently accepting the blame. That admission of guilt was all I needed to unleash my escalating fury. I began beating his chest with my fists and shouting, “It’s your fault! It’s all your fault!”
He remained stoic as I hammered him, quietly enduring the punishment my frantic fists were doling out. The fact that he didn’t verbally defend himself or even try to stop my punches was even more infuriating.
It wasn’t until an orderly came over to physically restrain me that the heartbroken tears began streaming down my face.
6
Levi
The orderly offered to give Meg something to help calm her down, but she refused it, indicating that she needed to be fully alert when she received news on her daughter.
Despite the lack of medication, she was now calm––almost too calm. Silent tears were streaming down her face as she attempted to fill out the giant stack of paperwork the receptionist had given her on a clipboard.
I sensed that she would prefer not to have to see me, and I completely understood why she was angry with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Meg was hurting, so I belonged by her side, doing anything in my power to make things easier for her.
If she needed to use me as a punching bag, then so be it. I probably deserved it. Afterall, my driving skills––or lack thereof––were the reason her daughter was in this antiseptic-scented hellhole.
Of course, Meg blamed me. She had every right to. I blamed myself, and if Harper or any of my other passengers suffered permanent injuries, I would never forgive myself.
I walked over to the reception desk to retrieve a couple of tissues from the box on the counter. When I returned to where Meg was sitting and tried to gently wipe the tears from her face, she snatched them out of my hands and did it herself.
Finally, deciding it was a lost cause, since the tears continued falling faster than she could wipe them, she wadded the thin tissues into a ball and tossed them aside.
Unsure what to do to help her, I offered, “I’ll go get you a cup of coffee. Still like it black and so strong that it needs a warning label?”
She nodded once, but her eyes were staring at the floor in a faraway daze.
The acrid smell of the waiting room coffee machine burnt my nostrils, but I went ahead and filled a Styrofoam cup with the thick sludge anyway. I doubted if Meg had any interest in drinking it, but the familiar ritual of holding the warm cup might be soothing to her raw, aching nerves.
I plopped a tea bag into a second cup and filled it with hot water. Meg had always made fun of my “wimpy” tea habit, but I needed something to do with my hands, and I’d never acquired a taste for coffee––even after all of these years. Whenever anyone noticed, my lame joke was that I wasn’t mature enough to drink the strong brew.
When I returned, Meg silently accepted the coffee cup. She glanced at my tea, but she was too lifeless and disheartened to tease me about it.
We sat there holding our cups, but neither of us drank from them. Meg simply stared at the ugly orange waiting room carpet with fear and dread visible in her expression. My stomach churned with those emotions too, but I had overwhelming guilt swirled into the mix.
I would give anything to go back in time andnotswerve the wheel of that bus in that brief moment. Running over a fellow human was something that would haunt me for the rest of my life and likely shake up the children who witnessed it, but at least the innocent kids wouldn’t have been injured.
As if she was on the same wavelength, Meg’s eyes suddenly darted to mine. “What was in the road that was important enough to risk the lives of a bus full of children?”
