Chapter 30 - Ethan
This is my fault. If I hadn’t been so caught up with kissing Zoe, I would have noticed Audrey walking on the slippery rocks on the edge of the river. I could have called her back, and none of this would have happened. I try to forget the chilling scream that came from Zoe when she saw Audrey disappear under the water’s surface. My hands tighten on the steering wheel and I glance at the two of them in the back seat. Zoe is rubbing Audrey’s body, whispering to her and crying as we race down the highway towards the hospital.
I look back at the road, trying to ignore the memory of my own father’s death. It was eerily similar, except it was Mara McCoy that fell in the river, and my father that jumped in after her. He refused to be treated at the hospital, the stubborn fool, and got pneumonia. By the time we got help for him a few days later, it was too late.
Now, the nightmare that plagued me for years is happening again. My heart is splitting in two for Zoe. I never knew I could care so much about someone, but I do. I glance in the mirror again and the pain in my heart hardens.
This isn’t my fault. This is Margaret McCoy’s fault. I don’t know how she’s done it, but somehow she’s caused this. She showed Audrey how to build those stupid stick boats. She planted the seed of fascination with the rushing, icy water of the river. The fury builds in my stomach until I can’t see anything except the road in front of me. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel until I think it might snap.
I can see Sherry’s car in the rear-view mirror. She’s got Bernie with her, and our little convoy is breaking every road law there is to get them to the hospital.
Zoe sobs in the back seat and the vice grip around my heart tightens.
“It’ll be okay, Zoe,” I hear myself say. “We’re almost there.”
“I should have been watching her,” she says, rocking back and forth. “I was so fucking happy and selfish.”
“It was an accident,” I say through gritted teeth, knowing exactly how she feels because I feel the same way. “It’s no one’s fault.” Even as I say the words, anger flashes through me.
We get to the hospital and it doesn’t take long for Audrey and Bernie to be rushed into a room together. The nurses tell Zoe in no uncertain terms to step aside, and I put my arm around her shoulder to lead her away. She’s shivering and watching the medical team work through wide, blood-shot eyes. Tears are falling down her cheeks and I doubt she even notices them drip off her chin.
I glance at Sherry, who purses her lips and watches the nurses and doctors try to warm the two patients up.
Just when I thought I was gaining a family, they’re being ripped away from me. My eyes fill with tears and I squeeze Zoe closer to try to distract myself from the pain in my heart. Zoe feels so frail in my arms, and she leans on me for support.
“I’ll get a couple coffees,” Sherry says. “Take her to sit down over there.”
For once, I welcome Sherry’s stern commands. She’s the one who took control of the situation by the river, telling me to grab Zoe and Audrey as she picked up Bernie as if she weighed no more than a child. She’s the one who told me to drive to the hospital, and she’s the one who spoke to the doctors. She’s been the voice of reason, and now, once again, I listen to her.
I guide Zoe to a seat and wrap my arms around her, whispering everything and nothing into her ear as she stares off into space.
Sherry reappears and hands us two steaming styrofoam cups of coffee. It tastes terrible. Zoe doesn’t even try hers, she just sits next to me and stares at the floor.
“I was so focused on that stupid veggie patch,” Sherry says, glancing down the hall towards Audrey and Bernie. “I didn’t even know what was happening until Bernie was halfway to the river.”
Zoe makes a strangled noise and Sherry crouches in front of her. My boss only looks like that when something has gone wrong at work and she needs to take control of a bad situation. Her usually impeccable grey hair is falling out of her bun, and the lines on her face are deeper than usual. She puts her coffee down on the floor and places both hands on Zoe’s thighs.
“Now you listen to me, Randall,” she commands. Zoe’s eyes widen and she stiffens beside me. “Your daughter is going to be fine. These are great doctors, and she was only in the water for a minute. You hear me? She’s going to be fine.”
“I’m a terrible mother,” Zoe says. Her voice is flat, and she doesn’t seem to know where she is.
“Oh, hush,” Sherry says. “You’re a wonderful mother. Everyone can see it. Now you need to be the great mother that you are and be ready to be strong for your family. You hear me?”
That seems to have some effect on Zoe. She sits up a bit straighter and wipes her eyes on the back of her hand. She nods to Sherry, and takes a sip of coffee before grimacing.
Sherry chuckles. “Worst coffee I’ve ever had,” she agrees, standing up and glancing down the hall.
Sherry stays with us until the early hours of the morning. She nods off on a chair at one point, but she’s there, with us, the whole time. Zoe seems to come around after a couple hours and tells Sherry to go home. Sherry laughs. “You won’t get rid of me that easily,” she says, and that’s that.
Every minute is agony and every hour is endless as we wait. I try to stop my mind from drifting back to that day by the river over a decade ago, when my father did the same thing for Mara McCoy. It was the start of the decade-long feud between the McCoys and the Clarkes that tore this town in half. Now, I’m reliving that nightmare and somehow it feels even more visceral.
Finally, a tired-looking doctor appears and nods to us.
“Audrey is going to be fine,” he says unceremoniously. Zoe makes a horrible strangled sound and immediately starts sobbing. The doctor nods, waiting for her to compose herself before continuing. “Bernadette is still in critical condition,” he says. Zoe makes another horrible noise and I put my arm around her shoulders.
“Can we see them?” I ask. The doctor nods, and leads us down the stark white hallway to their room. It smells like antiseptic and the fluorescent lights are giving me a headache. Zoe’s shaking.
Zoe goes to Audrey, climbing in the bed beside her and putting her arm gently over her daughter’s body. She puts her head next to the pillow and cries silently as Audrey sleeps. The organized is returning to the girl’s cheeks and lips, and Sherry squeezes my arm as she lets out a sigh of relief.
I glance at the next bed, where Bernie is laying. She looks pale as a nurse attends to her. She has thermal blankets over her entire body, and the nurse is jotting down her vital signs on a chart. I pull up a chair between the two beds and find Bernie’s hand, holding it in my own. It’s cold. Memories flood my mind and for a moment, I see my father laying on his death bed in this same hospital.
“Don’t die,” I whisper to her. “Please, Bernie, don’t die.”