“I haven’t seen it yet, but Blake said no blood, and she was able to get her to stop crying pretty quickly.”
“Every department in the area is out on Highway 50. Nasty twelve car pile-up. There are multiple fatalities and injuries. If you can transport, do it. I’ll call ahead so ER’s expecting you.”
“Okay, thanks, Rhonda.”
“Keep me updated.”
“Will do.”
Red lights and stop signs were suggestions, not mandates, as Jenna drove to get Tabitha. She called Blake again, speakerphone this time, the phone bouncing on the passenger seat. She didn’t hear Tabby crying anymore, just her shaky breaths.
“Blake, I’m pulling up in one minute and taking you to the hospital. Did Deacon leave her medical card? Medication list?” Jenna pictured Deacon, meticulous to the point of mania, probably taping a medical file on the fridge, alphabetized.
“Yes, by the fridge,” Blake said.
She knew it.
“Can you get it and still be with her?”
“Yes, I’m holding her. We’re in the kitchen. She has an Otter Pop.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in one minute. Grab them and meet me outside.”
“Okay, Mom, love you.”
“Love you more,” Jenna said, and she surprised herself by meaning it so hard her vision blurred with emotion.
Sixty seconds later she took the corner onto Deacon’s street at a dangerous angle, braked hard, and killed the engine. Blake was outside with Tabitha and paperwork in her arms. She rushed to the SUV.
Jenna hopped out and opened the back door as Blake handed Tabitha to Jenna. The girl’s tiny arm was limp at a wrong angle, already ballooning purple and blue at the elbow. But Tabitha was no longer shrieking, just biting her lip, eyes wide and wet, a sticky blue ice pop clutched in her good hand.
“Hi, sweet girl.” Jenna smiled down at her. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital, okay?”
“Okay.” Tabitha nodded as she sucked on her ice pop.
Jenna marveled at the resilience children had, how quickly they recalibrated to pain and how little they asked of the world but a lap and a frozen treat.
“Do you have her booster seat?” Jenna asked Blake.
“No, he didn’t leave it.” Blake looked panicked. “I don’t have a car.”
“Okay, it’s fine.” She gently placed Tabitha in the backseat and buckled her in then took the paperwork from Blake, whose face was blotchy with tears and self-blame. “You did everything right,” Jenna gave her a quick hug. “Everything. Just sit in the back with her, and try to keep her calm and distracted.”
Blake nodded and climbed in.
On to the walk back to the driver’s side, Jenna checkedthat she had everything she needed. When she climbed in she told Blake, “You even grabbed the right paperwork.”
Blake smiled in the rearview.
As she pulled away from the curb, Jenna’s mind did the pragmatic triage. “Have you called Deacon?”
“I tried. It went to his voicemail,” Blake explained. “But I left three messages.”
“Okay, did you let Tabitha talk to her dad?” she asked, glancing in the rearview. Tabitha’s head was resting against Blake’s shoulder as she stroked her hair and held her Otter Pop for her.
Blake shook her head no.
“Tabitha, do you feel up to telling your dad that we’re on the way to the hospital? If not, it’s okay.” Jenna knew as a parent, hearing her daughter’s voice would be everything.
