Page 111 of No Way Home
Magnolia slipped her hand around mine, a quiet support, but I need her closer. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her against my side.
“Sage is okay, they think,” Cash said, finding some control. “And the baby. But James is…not good.”
Itfelt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to my lungs. James was a rock for me. A steady, calm example of the kind of man I was trying to be. “What does that mean?”
“We’re not totally sure yet but at least some broken ribs, possibly a punctured lung, he’s lost a lot of blood,” Cash said barely above a whisper.
Somewhere during that sentence, the word ‘no’ started repeating off my lips. Over and over. “No, no, no, no.” My head dropped to my knees. “No, please, no.”
Magnolia rubbed over my shoulders, trying to calm me. “Where are Sage and James right now?” she asked calmly.
“UVA,” Charlie answered. “Or they will be any minute.”
“We’ll get there way before anyone else,” Cash said, like it was a good thing. But there was nothing good about any of this.
Magnolia was already on her phone, texting Abilene. I read over her shoulder.
James Dupree was in an accident. They’re taking him to UVA. Are you there? Do you know anything?
The twenty seconds it took for her to respond, felt like twenty minutes.
Abilene
He’s already here. Was just about to text. Unresponsive. 3 rib fx → LL lobe puncture. Femur fx. Splenic rupture. 1 U blood down. Going to OR now.
I was no doctor, but I’d watched enough medical dramas to know James had three broken ribs, his left lung was punctured, he had a broken femur, and his spleen ruptured. “IU blood down?” I asked.
Magnolia smiled, but there was a wrinkle between herbrows she couldn’t quite smooth out. “It means they already got one unit of blood into him.” She typed again.
Please tell me Farouk is on call tonight.
She closed her eyes like she was praying, and crossed her fingers.
“Farouk?” I asked when her eyes opened.
She stared at the phone, like she could will the answer she wanted to appear. “The best trauma surgeon from here to New York. If anyone can fix James, it’s?—”
Another text came through.
Abilene
James must be God’s favorite. Farouk was not on call tonight but then Mercer came down with suspected food poisoning about two hours ago. Heading to the OR now. Will ping if anything changes.
Magnolia’s exhale filled the backseat with calm. “Farouk is doing the surgery.”
“That’s good?” Cash asked.
“So incredibly good. Look for the miracles,” she whispered. Then she glanced over at me. “It’s something my mom and I used to do when things were scary.” Which they probably were often, with a cancer diagnosis hanging over them for four years. “Miracle number one: Mercer gets sick and Farouk picks up the call.”
She glanced at Charlie, who’d turned around, hanging on her every word. “Abbie is doing her surgery rotation, so she’ll be in the OR with him.” Charlie’s shoulders relaxed and I could see she was at least a little relieved. I wished I was. Magnolia squeezed my hand. “James is tough. Pair that with Farouk’s skills and he has the best shot possible.”
“Does that make a difference?” Charlie asked. “Disposition?”
“Absolutely,” Magnolia said, nothing but certainty in her expression.
My phone rang. It was Mom. I hit accept. Immediately, I could hear the background buzz, letting me know I was on speakerphone. “Mom, Abilene is going to be in the operating room, and Magnolia says the best trauma doctor around is doing the surgery.”
Mom sniffled. “Oh, that’s…great news.”
