“Lynda?” Susan pulled her friend into the nearest chair before she collapsed. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Matt.” Lynda’s voice cracked. “He was in a car accident. They took him to St. Joseph Medical Center in Polson. Stephanie said he’s… they’re running scans. They don’t know how badly he’s hurt yet.”
Kathleen was already moving, grabbing coats and bags. “I’ll drive you.”
“No, I can—” Lynda started to stand, then swayed slightly.
“You’re not driving,” Isabel said firmly, wrapping Lynda’s coat around her shoulders. “Kathleen’s right. We’ll take you.”
“All of us,” Susan added, pulling on her own jacket. She caught Kathleen’s eye and saw the same fear she was feeling reflected in her friend’s eyes.
“The clinic,” Lynda said weakly. “I have appointments?—”
“I’ll call Brenda,” Kathleen said, already pulling out her phone. “She’ll reschedule everything. Right now, you need to get to Matt.”
They bundled Lynda into Kathleen’s car. Susan slid into the back seat beside her friend. Isabel took the passenger seat, turning to reach back and squeeze Lynda’s hand.
The drive to Polson took forty minutes but felt like hours. Snow continued falling, making the roads treacherous. Kathleen drove with careful concentration while Susan held Lynda’s trembling hand.
“He was just picking up supplies for the barn,” Lynda whispered. “He texted me an hour ago about finding the perfect lights. How did this happen?”
“We don’t know anything yet,” Isabel said gently. “The hospital is running tests. That’s good. That means they’re being thorough.”
But Susan heard the fear beneath Isabel’s reassuring words. Scans meant they were looking for something. Internal injuries, head trauma, broken bones. All the terrible possibilities that came with car accidents in winter weather.
“The wedding,” Lynda said suddenly. “If Matt’s badly hurt?—”
“Don’t,” Susan interrupted firmly. “Don’t go there yet. We’ll deal with whatever comes, but right now, we focus on getting to the hospital and finding out what’s happening.”
Lynda nodded, but tears were streaming down her face now. Susan pulled her friend close, letting her cry against her shoulder while Kathleen navigated the snow-covered roads.
Through the car window, the winter landscape blurred past. Susan thought about all the careful planning, the lists, and the timelines. They were all perfect details for a perfect day. None of it mattered now. The only thing that mattered was Matt being okay.
Three days before Christmas Eve. Three days before the wedding that was supposed to mark new beginnings and second chances.
Susan held her friend tighter and prayed they’d still have a reason to celebrate.
Chapter 26
The trauma center’s waiting room smelled like antiseptic and fear.
Susan sat with her arm around Lynda, who’d stopped shaking but hadn’t stopped staring at the double doors that led to the surgical wing. Kathleen had gone to find coffee twenty minutes ago and still wasn’t back. Isabel paced near the window, her phone pressed to her ear as she spoke quietly with Pastor John.
They’d been here for three hours. Three hours that felt both endless and too short, each minute stretching thin while the clock on the wall ticked forward with brutal efficiency.
A police officer had spoken to Lynda. A drunk driver had crashed into Matt’s truck, sending it over a bank and slamming into some trees. The impact had ripped the engine off Matt’s truck, and left the other driver fighting for his life.
“Ms. Morth?” A surgeon in blue scrubs emerged through the doors, his face professional but unreadable.
Lynda shot to her feet so fast she nearly stumbled. Susan caught her elbow, steadying her friend as Isabel ended her call and rushed over.
“I’m Dr. Smith.” The surgeon gestured toward a quieter corner of the waiting room. “Let’s talk over here.”
Susan felt Lynda’s entire body go rigid as they followed Dr. Smith. Whatever news came next would either give them back their friend or take him away forever.
“Matt survived the surgery,” Dr. Smith began.
Lynda made a sound that was half sob, half prayer of thanks. Susan tightened her grip on her friend’s arm.
