Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
BOWEN
“Babe.” Charlie sniffled. “Slow down.”
I scooted to the edge of the seat so I could look at them. “What’s going on?”
“Seat belt, Bowen!” Charlie yelled, hysterically.
What the…
She reached back to squeeze my hand. “Sorry.” She blew out her breath. “Please put your seat belt on.”
I did as she asked, even though it meant I could only see Cash in the rear-view mirror and not her at all.
Cash flipped the blinker and tore out onto the main road. “Sage and James were….”
“In an accident,” Charlie finished.
Panic shot through me, and it felt like something was clawing at my chest. “Are they okay?” They must not be with all the tears happening in the front seat. Even Cash’s eyes were wet.
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.”
It felt 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 her brows 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.”
“Bowen, how far are you from the hospital?” Dad asked.
Five minutes later, Cash dropped me and Magnolia at the curb. He and Charlie drove off to find a spot in the parking garage across the street.
Magnolia took my hand, guiding me inside the hospital to the information desk.
“Well, hello, Miss Maggie.” A black woman grinned. But one look at our solemn expressions and her smile vanished. “Who are y’all here to see?”
“Hey, Zariah,” Magnolia said. “James Dupree.”
The woman typed his name into her computer. “He’s in surgery. Fifth floor.”
“Noted,” Magnolia said. “What about his wife—Sage Dupree?”
Zariah typed again. Her face went slack. “You’ll want to head to OB.” My gaze volleyed between them. Some unspoken conversation was happening. “They’re performing a C-section right now.”
“Why would they do that without James there?” I asked Magnolia, feeling incensed for my brother.
“Thanks,” Magnolia said to her friend. “We need to go.” She pulled me to a jog and we cut across the two-story lobby. “I’m going to be honest,” she said, her voice tight. “If they’re taking the baby right now, either Sage isn’t as okay as we thought, or Willow’s not doing well.”
“What does that mean? Why would Cash and Charlie say Sage was fine if she wasn’t?"
“I’m not sure,” she said, glancing at me, her eyes honest. “Someone passed along wrong information. Or…” She chewed her lip. “They’re probably delivering Willow now as a precaution,” she said, but her voice hitched, making me think she didn’t believe it.
The labor and delivery doors opened and I followed her to the front desk.
“Hi.” She forced a smile. “Um, we’re here for Sage Dupree.”
The receptionist typed on her keyboard, but then a baby’s scream pierced the air from somewhere down the hall. And yeah, even though there were probably lots of babies on this floor, somehow I just knew…that was my niece.
Her cry pulled me like a rope and I obeyed.
I shoved through another set of doors, veering left, jogging toward the sound.
Every room I passed, I searched—empty beds, a few moms dozing, one rocking her newborn.
Then Willow’s wail split the air again, reedy and breathless, like a tiny set of lungs demanding the whole world to hear.
Where were they? Why wasn’t Sage saying anything, like “Oh, she’s so beautiful? ” Or, “Can I hold her now?”
One more warbly scream, and I realized my niece and sister-in-law were in an operating room, in the center of the unit. I peeked through the window to see a nurse scrubbing down a blond baby girl, red and splotchy, hair damp. I smiled, heart pounding. Willow was not happy about her first bath.
I shoved the door open, and my ears were assaulted by Willow’s beautiful screams. She was so loud that I almost didn’t hear another noise hidden beneath. A noise that would haunt me for years to come.
The singular steady tone of a heart monitor flatlining.
The terrible irony? The fear that sound put in me made my own heart slam against my ribs with fierce, unrelenting power.
I whirled, searching for the source of the tone.
“You can’t be in here!” A nurse yelled just as I spotted the monitor, still attached to Sage, who was lying eerily still on the operating table.
“I’m the baby’s u-ncle,” I choked. “Her dad’s in surgery.”
The doctor, wearing a solemn, defeated expression, waved the nurse off. “Leave him be.”
I stumbled forward, trying to process what I was seeing. When the truth my brain already knew reached my heart, it came out of my vocal cords as a gut-wrenching wail. My legs gave out and my knees hit the floor before I knew I’d even gone down. I caught myself with my hands, a sob shaking my lungs.
My sweet, adorable sister-in-law…the love of James’s life…
Was gone.