Second-Time Lucky

At noon, she showered and put on fresh slacks and a long-sleeved T-shirt, then ate a sandwich, again choosing to sit on the back porch.

Around the neighborhood, families worked on flower beds, washed cars or chatted over the low fences between yards. Caileen inhaled the wonderful aroma of fresh-cut grass and that of baking bread. Her neighbor two doors down loved to cook and favored everyone with the delicious results.

Caileen glanced at her watch. It was after one. Ignoring the faint maternal prod of concern, she decided to go to the grocery store while she still had the car.

After checking supplies and making a list, she drove to the supermarket and did the weekly shopping. She wondered how Tony’s hamburgers and gelatin side dish had been received by Jeff and the other two.

In line at the checkout counter, she realized she was smiling as she thought of them. She touched her lips as if to be sure the smile was real. It was.

When it was her turn, she stacked the groceries on the moving belt and ran her credit card through the machine while Thelma, who’d worked there for the twelve years she’d lived in town, scanned the items. She was signing the credit slip when an ambulance rushed by, its siren warning others to clear a path. She and the clerk glanced up.

“I hope no one was injured in an accident.” Thelma frowned and shook her head. “My grandson got arrested for drag racing last weekend. My son is thinking about grounding him for life.”

“Teenagers can be reckless,” Caileen agreed.

“Ah, well, they grow out of it.”

Thelma finished bagging the groceries and loaded them onto the cart. Caileen left the store, her gaze going toward the street and the small hospital that served the community.

At the emergency portico, she saw the paramedics lift out a gurney and wheel it inside. The sunlight reflected from the plastic IV bag that dangled above the patient.

On the way home, she found herself dwelling on the scene and realized it was worry over her daughter that troubled her. After all, a trip to the hospital could be a joyous occasion—for instance, the birth of a child.

She remembered how frightened she’d been on the way to the hospital to have her baby. She’d been not quite twenty-one years old and alone. Brendon had gotten a job at a construction site that summer and was working long hours.

At home, she stored the food, her mind still on the past. As inexperienced parents, she and her husband had been terrified of the tiny child now in their keeping, but they’d both fallen in love with her.

Caileen finished her task, then paused and considered those long-ago days and two months of fatigue before Zia had slept the night through. Brendon had been good about helping then. When had things gone wrong for them?

When she’d wanted a stable home and a steady source of income. When she’d decided it was time for them—both of them—to grow up.

Maybe she’d expected too much.

Before she could dwell on this, the telephone rang. She grabbed the wall phone at the end of the counter. “Hello?”

Expecting her daughter’s voice, she was surprised when a masculine voice inquired, “Mrs. Peters?”

“Yes?”

“This is Sammy. Uh, Zia’s been hurt.”

“Hurt? How? Where is she?”

“At the hospital. You’d better come down. She asked for you before she, uh, passed out.”

Caileen wanted to ask a hundred questions, but she refrained. “I’ll be right there,” she promised and hung up.

Grabbing her purse, she dug out the keys while she ran to the car. On the road, she wouldn’t let herself go more than ten miles over the speed limit even though she wanted to floor the pedal. She parked at the curb near the emergency room and dashed inside.

“I’m Caileen Peters,” she told the woman behind the admitting desk. “My daughter, Zia, was brought in a short time ago?” Her voice trailed upward into a question.

“Mmm, Peters, yes. The surgeon is with her. I have some forms for you to sign.”

“What happened?” Caileen demanded, ignoring the forms as panic rose inside her. “Why is she in surgery?”

“A car accident,” the woman said sympathetically. “Your daughter is doing fine. Her blood pressure stabilized shortly after the ambulance crew put the IV in. The floor nurse will be with you in a minute. She’ll give you a full report.”

Caileen digested the information while a hundred questions whirled through her mind.

The woman held out a pen. “Fill out the form and sign at the bottom. Do you have insurance?”

“Yes, through the county. I’m with Family Services.”

Her hand trembling slightly, Caileen signed the papers. When she was finished, a nurse told her Zia was in surgery to repair a torn blood vessel. “But what happened?” she asked. “How did she get injured?”

“A piece of metal hit her in the neck, causing a jagged edge to nick an artery,” the nurse said gently. “Your daughter was lucky that no other damage was done. Here’s the waiting room. The surgeon will see you when he’s finished. Your daughter’s friend is here, too.”

Caileen went into the quiet, tastefully furnished room. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air. “Sammy,” she said, spotting the handsome young man sitting in a kitchen chair at a table. “What happened?”

He avoided her eyes. “There was an accident.”

“In your pickup?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Two of the guys were, uh, sort of racing. They sideswiped each other and a piece of chrome flew off and hit Zia on the side of her neck.”

“Drag racing?” Caileen asked, recalling the grocery clerk’s remarks.

Sammy nodded. “A lot of people use the old back road, the one near the campground, to check out their engines. We were standing beside the road, watching.”

Caileen suppressed the anger his words caused. Now wasn’t the time to accuse him of putting her child in danger. Zia had gone of her own accord. “What happened after the injury?”

“She was bleeding a lot,” he said, gesturing helplessly. “I held a handkerchief against the wound while someone called the ambulance on a cell phone.”

Caileen stared at his hands as he clasped them and leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. He had large hands, a man’s hands, but his expression was that of a boy who’d been caught in some mischief. He was twenty-one, an adult by law. She sighed and poured a cup of coffee, then took a seat opposite him.

Another person came into the room. She glanced up and her eyes met those of Jeff Aquilon. She stared at him.

He nodded, walked over to the counter and got a cup of coffee, then stopped by the table. “May I join you?” he asked.

“Yes. What are you doing here?” She realized how rude that sounded. “Is everything all right?”

“With my family, yes. The hospital called and asked if Jeremy and I could give blood. We’re both O negative.”

“Universal donors,” Sammy said.

“Zia is A negative,” Caileen said, trying to put all these facts together into a whole.

“I understand she was injured in a car accident,” Jeff said. His gaze settled on Sammy. “You should know better than to bring women along when you’re doing something stupid.”