LITMIR.BIZ

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not want to feel sorry for him. She needed to stay mad and hurt and everything in between. She had to, or she would likely get her heart broken all over again.

      * * *

      Sunset had come and gone. Once Sam reached Knoxville, Tennessee, he took 81 North. The dark pavement in front of his headlights all looked the same, even though he’d already left one state and driven into another.

      Two hours had passed since he’d last talked to Trey. He kept thinking Trina should be out of surgery by now, but he’d heard nothing, and Trey had promised to call.

      Traffic was heavy. At least a dozen eighteen-wheelers had passed him during those hours, along with the constant barrage of other traffic. Now, though, traffic was beginning to slow down, and he couldn’t figure out why until he topped a hill and saw a cadre of flashing lights on the highway below. He tapped the brakes to accommodate the slower pace, and as he did, caught a flash of headlights coming over the hill behind him at a breakneck pace.

      He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the lights popped up in his mirror. There was no way that driver would be able to brake in time to keep from hitting him. He was bracing himself for impact when, at the last moment, the car swerved and went airborne into the center median.

      Sam glanced over his shoulder as it went flying past him in the dark. It was rolling in midair when it hit and continued to roll after impact, the headlights bouncing up and down in the darkness. When the car finally stopped, it was upside down.

      Sam slammed on the brakes and pulled off onto the shoulder. He left the lights on in his SUV as he grabbed his flashlight and jumped out. Other witnesses to the wreck were also stopping and running toward it.

      He darted into the grassy median. The car had rolled a good fifty yards away. The beam of his flashlight was not meant to illuminate this much, and he could barely see where he was going, plus he was beginning to smell gas. It must be spilling out.

      A man ran up behind him as they neared the wreck.

      “I just called 911,” the stranger said. “I saw the whole thing. He was flying when he came over that hill.”

      Sam stopped at the wreck and got down on his knees before flashing the light throughout the interior. Not only was it empty, but the windshield was gone.

      Sam stood abruptly. “It’s empty. The driver was thrown out. Spread out and start looking.”

      By now a half-dozen others had joined them, and most of them had flashlights, too. They quickly spaced themselves out and began backtracking in a wide perimeter away from the wreck.

      As they were searching, Sam began to hear more sirens and turned to look. One of the patrol cars was coming back up with his lights flashing.

      Sam kept moving slowly, sweeping the grassy median with his flashlight as he walked. The first thing he found was a duffel bag, and then a few yards farther he found a red-and-black tennis shoe. The duffel bag was from a college in Tennessee, and the shoe was a popular one with the younger crowd. His heart sank.

      “Over here!” someone yelled.

      He turned and ran.

      The driver was lying facedown on the missing windshield, and when Sam saw him, for a split second the night and the people around him disappeared and he thought he was hearing the whup whup whup from the rotors of a chopper and watching blood running out of his buddy’s head and seeping into the sand at his feet. The heat of the desert wind was in his face as the flashing lights from the highway patrol car momentarily blinded him. It was the lights that yanked him out of the flashback.

      “He’s dead!” the man yelled, waving at the patrolman who was coming their way.

      As Sam dropped down on one knee to check the body for a pulse, the man said again, “He’s dead. I done checked.”

      Sam was numb. The driver was in his early twenties, and the man was right. He was dead.

      A crowd was gathering around the body, and they were all talking at once, wanting to tell their version of what they’d seen to the highway patrolman.

      Sam glanced down at the boy one last time, and then turned around and walked back to his SUV. He tossed the flashlight onto the seat beside him, grabbed a canister of hand wipes and began pulling out the sheets to clean his hands, and then he kept pulling them out and wiping and pulling them out and wiping until he realized he was crying. He took a slow, shaky breath as he threw the canister on the floor, then wadded up the hand wipes and put them in a trash bag.

      “Jesus wept,” he said softly, and then closed his eyes, but the sight was still burned into his brain, and the moment he spoke the words, he remembered a scene from his childhood and the scolding his mother had given him for what he’d said.

      Do not use the Lord’s name in vain, Samuel Wade.

      I didn’t curse, Mama. That’s a Bible verse. Daddy said it’s the shortest verse in the Bible.

      Well, your daddy is right, but so am I. Don’t say that again unless you’re on your knees saying prayers.

      Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, Mama.

      Sam rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wasn’t on his knees, but he needed to be.

      “I’m sorry, Mama,” he said softly. “Sorry for everything.”

      He could almost feel her hand on the back of his neck.

      It’s okay, Sammy. When you know better, you do better.

      He put the car in gear and slowly pulled back onto the interstate. For some strange reason, home seemed even farther away.

      * * *

      Trey and Lee were alone in the waiting room. Dallas had gone home because the livestock needed tending. He’d put out a couple of round bales of hay for their cattle early this morning, so they wouldn’t have to be tended to for a couple of days, but Dallas’s hens had to be fed and watered, and the eggs had to be gathered, no matter what else was wrong with their world.

      They were still in the waiting room when Trey’s phone rang. He saw it was Dallas and answered quickly.

      “Hey, honey. Everything all right?” he asked.

      “Yes. I’m getting ready to drive back into town. Is Trina still in surgery?”

      “Yes, but don’t drive back. I was watching the weather earlier, and there’s a heavy thunderstorm predicted for this area. I don’t want you out on the roads in that.”

      “But, Trey, I don’t want you there by yourself.”

      “I’m not alone. Lee’s here. I’ll let you know the minute she’s out of surgery. Just stay home. At least I’ll know one of you is safe.”

      Dallas heard the weariness in his voice and knew if she pushed the issue and went to the hospital anyway, it would be at his expense, so she finally agreed.

      “I’ll stay home. Just know how much I love you,” she said.

      “I love you, too,” Trey said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

      He disconnected and then settled back in his chair. Lee was dozing sitting up. They didn’t have anything much to say to each other and even less to the people who stared at them as they passed the waiting room.

      Five hours after Trina went into surgery, the surgeon came into the waiting room looking for her family.

      Trey stood abruptly, while Lee eased up from the sofa where he’d been sitting. They were both afraid to hear the verdict.

      “Are you here for Trina Jakes?” the doctor asked.

      “Yes,” they said in unison.

      “I’m Dr. Lowell. I operated on her. She came through the surgery and is in ICU.”

      Lee dropped back onto the sofa and started to cry. Just the news that she was still alive was what

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