Northern Lights (Natural Wonders #1)

Prologue

Is this what death feels like? Because I'm completely numb. I'm sitting here in the hospital, waiting on news about my sister and brother-in-law.

Mom called me screaming in the middle of a study night, telling me I had to get to Grant Medical Center as soon as possible because Belle and her husband, Alex, were in a car accident. Their nine-month-old daughter, Sunny, was in the car with them.

And now they’re in the hospital.

My sister and brother-in-law are both in surgery and have been for hours. I have no idea how long I've been sitting here. One hour? Two?

It doesn’t matter. I can't feel anything.

I feel like if she was alive, I would know it. I feel like if she wasn't alive, I would know it. Aren’t you supposed to feel a soul-deep connection to the people you love? I’ve read about people feeling a tug on their souls when something terrible happens to their spouses or families.

That didn’t happen for me. While my sister was experiencing hell on wheels — dammit, Alis, now is not the time for puns — I was overstuffing my mouth with pizza, bopping my head and feet to Taylor Swift, and reading through my paper about the symbolic anthropomorphism of The Raven for my American Lit seminar.

And now? I can't think. I can't feel. I can't do anything. I'm just staring at the wall, looking at this ridiculous framed print of a pelican.

Who the fuck thought a painting of a pelican sitting on a jette would be a comforting scene to look at while waiting for a loved one to get out of surgery?

Pelicans are giant sea birds with the largest double chins in the history of double chins.

They aren’t pretty. They aren’t serene. This picture isn’t at all relaxing to look at. It has no purpose.

I take that back. I’m annoyed with the pelican painting. Annoyance is a feeling. The pelican serves a purpose.

Glancing away from the bird, I look over at my parents, huddled together near the waiting room door.

This kind of stuff happens in movies, but not in real life. Right?

Dad said the guy who hit them died on impact. He was drunk, veered into their lane, and hit them head-on when they were on their way home from dinner.

That’s something I loved about my sister.

LOVE. Not loved. She’s alive. Past tense has no place here.

I love that, even with a nine-month-old baby, she and Alex still go out to dinner.

They live full lives and include Sunny in their fun.

Belle never hibernated or complained about being too tired to take a crying infant into public places.

I hope that, if I ever become a mom, I'll be like her, and will see my children as whole people from the moment they are born.

Our family has never subscribed to the “children should be seen but not heard” mentality. I'm thankful that Belle and Alex followed in our parents’ footsteps.

Gosh, what is taking so long? I swear she has been in there forever.

Alex too. Alex has been in surgery for hours.

Sunny seems fine. The doctors looked her over and thankfully she didn’t have any internal bleeding.

She’s bruised from the car seat straps and I’m sure she was shaken up during the collision, but other than that she’s fine.

They’re keeping her overnight for observation, and my aunt is sitting with her in her hospital room.

Note to self: Post a five-star review for Britax on . The Uber-expensive car seat saved my niece's life tonight.

I’m still staring at my parents. It looks like they’re slow dancing, hugging each other and swaying as mom cries silent tears. Every so often they still, breathing heavily, until more tears come, and their bodies sob and sway once again.

Watching them together is the most beautiful, heartbreaking thing I've ever witnessed. It should warm or break my numb heart. But the thought just appears in my brain, beautiful words devoid of emotion.

My parents hugged me when I arrived, but I couldn’t stay in their embrace. My body repelled any physical contact. I needed space. Silence. A bench to myself. A wall to stare at. And then the stupid fucking pelican showed up. I guess the pelican didn't show up; I did. The bird was here first.

Shouldn’t I have some underlying feeling of hope or dread? Am I in shock? Is this what shock feels like?

Jarred from my thoughts, I look up as the double doors swing open. A doctor in scrubs walks in. “Alex Donnelly? Alex Donnelly's family?”

That’s us.

I stand and meet my parents as they signal to the doctor that we are Alex’s family.

My sister met her husband while studying abroad in Ireland. They fell in love, eloped, and then he followed her back to America. They now reside in the same small town our family has lived in for three generations. So. Exciting.

I’ve never understood their decision to return to America. It seems backward to me. I figure if you're going to marry a hot Irishman, you should … you know, live in the Highlands or something. Wait, the Highlands are in Scotland, not Ireland. Whatever.

Damn, my wandering thoughts. The doctor is speaking, for Christ’s sake.

“Mr. and Mrs. —”

“Gilmore,” Mom interjects. “We are Alex’s in-laws. We’re his only family here.”

“Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Gilmore. I'm so sorry. We did everything we could, but Alex wasn’t able to pull through. We lost him in surgery.”

What?! Alex is gone? Dead? No longer breathing?

Mom’s knees buckle and she sobs into Dad’s chest, gripping onto him for dear life.

I blink. And blink. And blink some more.

My brother-in-law is gone. My sister just became a single parent.

My sister just lost the love of her life and became a single parent. They've only been married three years. They were just starting their life together. And now. Now he's gone.

I try to inhale. My vision is blurry. I can hear my heartbeat in my head. I close my eyes, trying to get a grip on myself.

Alex is dead. My sister has to raise her baby girl without her dad. My thoughts are officially looping.

Belle deserves everything happy and wonderful in life. She is the kindest person. She loves with every piece of herself. And now she has to live without her lover and raise her daughter without a father.

I feel a piece of my heart break. Physical pain throbs in my chest and my heartbeat continues to grow louder in my ears. This is not happening. Am I having a panic attack?

I sit back down on the bench, head in my hands. Breathe in. Breathe out. When I finally glance up, I’m once again staring at the pelican. That fucking pelican. Stupid fucking double-chinned bird. My brother is dead and my sister is alone and WHO THE HELL PUT THIS BIRD ON THE WALL?!

My inability to process the current situation has me focusing any and all emotions on a picture of a bird. God help me.

I wish my anger had a proper target. If the drunken idiot who smashed into the front of my sister’s car was still alive, I'd probably kill him. He got lucky and died on impact — thereby avoiding my wrath. Stupid asshole deserved to suffer a longer, more fitting death.

I sit there, stewing in anger — a step up from numbness — staring at the pelican for what seems like another few hours. For all I know I've only been sitting here for a few minutes.

The doors swing open once again, and another surgeon donning scrubs asks for “Donnelly? Isabelle Donnelly's family?”

Dad lifts his hand, “That’s us.”

“She's out of surgery and stable. But we're not out of the woods yet. We've put her into a medically-induced coma for the time being to help her body heal. She has a lot of swelling in her brain, and her brain scan didn’t show much, if any, activity. She had internal bleeding, four broken ribs — basically the entire left side of her body was crushed. We’d like to monitor her for the next twenty-four hours to see if her swelling reduces and the brain scans show signs of recovery.”

“So, we wait? Can we see her?” Mom asks, looking hopefully at the doctor.

“Once we get Isabelle settled into her room in the intensive care unit, you’ll be able to sit with her.”

I walk into Belle’s hospital room. Seeing my sister hooked up to machines, a breathing tube coming out of her mouth — I have no words.

Mom walks over to her bed and presses a soft kiss to Belle’s head. “I love you, baby girl,” she whispers. Dad stands on Belle’s other side, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.

I’m frozen at the threshold, frozen in place, and not sure where to go from here. Eventually, I move into the room and sit in a chair, glancing back and forth between my parents and my unconscious sister.

Is she going to wake up? Is the swelling in her brain going to subside? How long until she wakes from the coma?

Now that I’m finally starting to regain feeling in my limbs and clarity in my thoughts, the doctor is gone and I’m left sitting here without answers to my million and one questions.

“Julia,” my dad breaks the silence after what seems like an hour. “We should check on Sunny and your sister, and then get some rest before the doctor does his rounds tomorrow morning. We won’t know anything more until then.”

Ah, my dad. Ever the pragmatic one. At least he’s functioning. Mom looks like she’ll collapse any minute — either from physical or emotional exhaustion. Probably a combination of the two.

“But, my baby,” she whimpers, sadness and worry coating her words.

“I know, honey. She’s my baby, too. We still need to think of Sunny, and we need to sleep. You can barely stand as it is. There’s nothing we can do tonight, and we need to rest before talking to the doctor tomorrow.”

She nods, squeezing Belle’s hand one last time before taking a step back from the hospital bed and walking to meet Dad at the other side.

“Alis?” Dad asks, looking at me to see if I’ll follow.

“I’m going to stay with Belle tonight. Give my love to Sunny.” I pull my feet into the chair, bending my knees and holding them close to my body.

“Alright. Try and rest. We’ll see you in the morning.” He walks to me and plants a kiss on top of my head.