Chapter 63 Charleigh
Charleigh
The tires on Charleigh’s Jag mew as she screeches into the hospital parking lot.
Trembling, she twists the key, kills the ignition.
During the five-minute drive over here, she kept repeating, over and over in her head, Please let this really be an accident. Please let Blair be okay.
Still dressed in her swimsuit, she managed to at least throw on a cover-up, but she looks like a wreck, feels like one, too.
She shuffles into the ER, and the waiting room is clogged with people, faces she knows; everyone is there for Blair.
In the corner with Chip, Blair’s father, she spies Kathleen, dressed demurely in a white tee and cotton shorts.
Charleigh looks down at her attire and feels naked, ashamed. But she knows that’s not why shame is rushing over her skin right now. It’s because of what all this might mean.
Fuck.
Kathleen looks up; Charleigh catches her eye, motions her over to the only corner that’s not littered with folk.
“I came as soon as I heard. As soon as Nellie got home and told me—”
Tears brim in Kathleen’s eyes. She shakes her head.
“Is she…?” Charleigh can’t force herself to mutter the rest of the question out loud.
“She’s still with us, thank God in heaven,” Kathleen says, her voice trembling. “But it’s bad.”
Charleigh’s throat turns to dust. “What happened? Nellie just said it was an accident, an awful one, and then I rushed out the door—”
“Apparently”—Kathleen’s eyes whisk around the room as if she’s about to tell something she’s not supposed to—“Blair had just smoked some pot, and…she dove off the roof of the old boathouse. And the exact second she was about to hit the water, a loose canoe floated out, and she landed on that instead—”
“Oh, my God!” Charleigh sucks in a sharp, dramatic breath, covers her mouth with her hand in horror. Even though right now all she feels is relief. This was an accident. At least she thinks so. “That’s terrible. What are the odds?”
“I know. Monica’s in there with her right now. In the ICU. And,” Kathleen adds, her voice wobbling again, “she’s in a coma.”
“A coma? God, that’s awful! Poor Monica! I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling!” Tears gush into Charleigh’s eyes. Tears of empathy, of sadness, but also tears of relief. “Was there anybody by the canoe? How, I wonder, did it come undone?”
Kathleen’s face screws up in confusion—mixed with a little suspicion. “Umm. I’m not sure? I think it’s just one of those freak things—”
“Yeah, of course,” Charleigh says quickly, hopefully covering her misstep. Thank God Kathleen’s no genius.
“Her head injury is pretty severe, according to what the doctors told Chip.”
Charleigh glances over at him and feels awful. His face is mottled red, his hands tunneled in the pockets of his golfing shorts.
“Do they think she’ll make it?” Charleigh whispers.
“It’s too soon to know. But they said there’s hope. So we’re all about to do a prayer chain.”
That’s Charleigh’s cue to go.
At least she and Nellie are in the clear.
And obviously she will pray, in her own way, that Blair pulls through.
“I gotta get back home to Nellie. She was pretty shaken up over this.” She leans in to hug Kathleen. “But call me the sec there’s any update, okay?”
“I will.” Kathleen rubs circles over Charleigh’s back as if she’s consoling a small child. Charleigh pries herself away, scurries out the door.