Chapter 3
Chapter Three
T hree days later, Ava’s swelling was going down enough for her to recognize her reflection again, and her bruises were just beginning to fade. She was discharged with a mound of paperwork, directions on wound healing, and a script to begin physical and cognitive therapy.
“Do I really need therapy?” she asked the nurse.
“To improve the range of motion in your neck, they’ll have you do neck and head mobility exercises.
Also, a skull fracture can sometimes impact your balance, so they might have you do some stability work.
” The nurse jotted down a few final things on a clipboard.
“And besides the physical toll the accident has taken, we have to monitor your cerebral strength, given the swelling you had. You want to be sure that you’re on your game mentally.
” She ripped the carbonized paper apart and gave Ava the top copy.
Ava peered down at her discharge paperwork. “I agree that I need to be on my game, but I think I’m just fine.”
“Whenever there’s a brain injury, we offer work on memory and problem-solving skills—it’s just a precaution, to make sure your mind is functioning like it should. It’s worth scheduling a few initial assessments just to be on the safe side.”
“She’s right,” her mother said over her shoulder.
Still clinging to the idea that Lucas was the only one who would really know what she needed, Ava was skeptical. “How will I fit all this into my work schedule?”
Her mother put a hand on her shoulder. “I called McGregor Creative. They’ve given you three weeks off from today to start with, more if you need it.”
Ava’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t take three weeks off. I can’t even take what I’ve already taken. I have to get back to work as soon as possible.”
“They said not to worry. They had someone who could manage your accounts. He’s been handling them since the day of the accident.”
She gritted her teeth, her jaw tender. “ He? ”
“They told me his name, but I don’t remember.”
“Was it Scott Strobel?”
“Yes, that was it. They said he did a fantastic job filling in for you with one of your clients.” Her mom snapped her fingers. “The client was…”
“Coleman Media?”
“Yes! See? Everything is under control.”
Just as she’d thought…
Absolutely nothing was under control.
Before Ava knew it, she was in a taxi, along with her mother gripping onto her suitcase, on her way back to her apartment. Ava had tried to convince her mom that she’d be fine on her own, but her mother had adamantly refused, insisting Ava should have someone to care for her.
Her mother’s suggestion turned out to be a good one.
Ava had needed assistance to get out of the car, and help up the outside steps of her building.
Getting to her third-floor apartment, something she’d done a million times without a single thought, was a long, laborious process.
When they finally arrived at her door, she was relieved to have made it.
She keyed in her passcode and went inside. Her mother brought in their bags.
“I’ve got to call into work,” Ava said as she hobbled over to the sofa, groaning at the pain in her side when she sat. She lightly pressed against the bandage covering one of the lacerations. “Do we know where my laptop and phone are?”
“They were destroyed in the wreck.” Martha set her quilted bag on the table, went around the bar separating the kitchen from the living area, and filled a glass with water.
“When I called your office, I let them know about your laptop, and they said they could issue you a new one when you came back to work.”
“Did they say anything more about Coleman Media? Were they waiting long before someone figured out what had happened?”
“They knew something had gone terribly wrong before I’d called them. You were on the phone with someone when the crash occurred. It was that person who called 911.”
“Rachel from Spire.”
Ava’s mom handed her a glass of water.
“I really need to know how the Coleman deal went.”
Martha shrugged, shaking her head, clearly not having all the details. “They said fine, remember? And it doesn’t matter. It’s just work.”
Her mother didn’t understand what it was like to hold a job at this level.
She’d never had to be the provider; she’d been a stay-at-home mom Ava’s whole life, and when Ava’s father died of a heart attack eighteen years ago, she’d moved out to no-man’s-land in the sticks of Tennessee.
While her mother had chosen a life that had given her happiness, that choice made appreciating Ava’s struggles difficult.
She couldn’t comprehend why Ava chose an expensive city to call home or her reasoning for pursing such a competitive career.
“I’ve put everything I have into that job, Mom. It isn’t just work. I was up for partner . The guy who’s taking over my accounts is the other candidate vying for the position, and he’s getting all the glory.”
Her mom sat in the sherpa accent chair Ava had gotten herself for Christmas last year. “You could’ve died. The guy who hit you is still clinging to life. And work is what you’re worried about?”
Her mom’s question didn’t compute.
“Why wouldn’t it be on my mind? You did hear me say ‘partner,’ right? That’s everything I’ve worked for my entire adult life.”
Martha slumped back in the chair. “You know, when I’m too old to come get you, you’ll have no one. Who would have come to take you home if this had happened twenty years from now? You’re no longer with David… Who are your friends, Ava?”
“I have friends,” she said defiantly. “My friend Allison would’ve helped, but she’s on vacation.
” She didn’t dare consider that Allison was the only person she knew well enough to ask such a favor, and if her friend ever moved away or wasn’t around—like now—she’d be in real trouble.
She’d spent so much of her life working that she didn’t have time to build relationships.
“I could get myself home,” Ava said anyway. She set her water on the marble coaster she’d gotten because it matched the legs of her glass-topped coffee table.
“Could you?” her mother challenged.
“Yes. It would take me a while, but I could do it.”
“ This time.”
She hated to admit it, but her mom was right.
Even if Allison could help, what would happen if Ava weren’t capable of walking into her own apartment?
Her mother had said “ this time ” as if it was an inevitability.
Was it? In the back of Ava’s mind was the fact that she’d agreed to this miraculous recovery on the grounds she find Lucas.
While the nothingness and the voice could’ve been a dream or a hallucination, the experience in the void had been so clear and real—instead of the other way around.
If she didn’t find Lucas and hold up her end of the celestial deal, she kept asking herself, would her life end?
And if so, when? Maybe she didn’t have internal bleeding.
So was she going to fall off a bridge on the way to work one day?
Every step she’d taken on the journey home—the car ride, getting across the street, boarding the elevator—she’d worried about her fate.
“Mom, can I ask you something? What do you think happens to us when we die?”
Martha straightened up. “You don’t remember anything from all those years in Sunday school? I believe we go to heaven.”
Ava deliberated over saying anything about her experience for fear her mother would tell her it wasn’t heaven—especially since her father hadn’t been there.
He was the most God-fearing man she knew.
He’d ended every night at the kitchen table, under lamplight, reading his Bible.
If where she’d been wasn’t heaven, she considered again that there was only one other place she was taught it could be. But she’d felt so loved and comforted…
“What’s bugging you?” her mom asked.
“Something happened after the crash.” Unable to hold it in any longer, she told her mom about the emptiness and the voice. Then she divulged what she’d experienced, having a doctor with the same name as Lucas.
“Lucas from high school?”
“Did you happen to see him?” Ava asked.
Her mom shook her head. “I wasn’t there the whole day while you were unconscious. I hung out in the café and got myself some coffee to settle my nerves. They had my number, so I sat at a table and read a book or quilted, trying to stay calm.”
“I wonder if it was the same Lucas?”
“What would be the odds?” her mom asked.
“Maybe none of it really happened. After all, I didn’t see Dad…” Her voice broke on the words and a lump formed in her throat, tears welling in her eyes.
She’d always been tough when dealing with his death. She’d never allowed herself to cry.
I must really be fragile at the moment.
A lone tear slipped down her slightly swollen cheek. She wiped it away, her shoulder hurting with the effort.
Her mother got up, went into the kitchen, and poured herself a glass of water. Her mom had never been great at talking about her dad’s death. She’d told Ava once that the pain was too intense, and talking about him would crush her if she let it.
Ava had always wondered what it was like to love a significant other that intently. She couldn’t imagine ever loving another man as much as she loved her dad. She’d hoped her marriage would’ve grown into an all-consuming love like her parents’, but it never had.
“Think I’m going nuts?” Ava called over the counter.
Her mom came back into the room and picked up Ava’s glass, holding it out to her. Then she sat back down and took a long drink from her own.
“You’ve had a lot going on—all the things you were doing with your job; you filled your days so full and never took a rest; and then you had the accident. It’s no wonder your mind’s playing tricks on you.”
Ava sipped her water, feeling no clearer after telling her mother what she’d experienced .