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They walked outside as a group.

Chase and Diana had parked in a special “Pregnant Moms” space and quickly got into their car and took off.

Ted and Emmie walked Cinda and Ryan to their vehicle and continued to Ted’s SUV. Ted helped her in and climbed into the driver’s seat. They sat a moment.

“I think that went pretty well,” said Emmie.

“You were terrific,” Ted said. “It’s obvious that Chase and Diana approve of us. Cinda and Ryan are going to be fine with us, too.”

“I hope so,” said Emmie.

As they headed toward the parking lot exit, they heard a screech of tires, a large bang, and a lot of commotion.

As they grew closer to the exit, Ted cried, “Omigod! It’s Cinda and Ryan!” He turned off the engine and got out of the car.

Emmie quickly followed, her heart pounding with concern.

In the middle of the road, a white Lexus sedan was hit on the passenger side by a large black truck. People were running toward the accident scene.

Ryan got out of the car and stood a moment, clutching his head, before turning back to the car.

“Cinda! Is she all right?” called Ted, running to Ryan and then coming around the car to the passenger side to check on Cinda.

“I don’t know… the truck didn’t stop at the stop sign.” Ryan called into the car. “Cinda! Cinda! Are you hurt?”

A siren wailed in the distance.

Emmie ran to the passenger side of the car behind Ted and watched helplessly as Ted fought to get the car door open.

When he opened it, Emmie saw that Cinda was awake and moaning softly. “Don’t move her!” Emmie cried. “It looks like she’s hurt. There could be broken bones.”

It seemed to take forever for an EMT vehicle to approach and come to a stop nearby. Two people got out and hurried over to them.

“Move back, everyone!” said one of them, while the other checked Cinda.

Emmie slid her hand into one of Ted’s as they stood by. He squeezed it and shot her a worried glance, then watched the medical team assess Cinda.

Ryan was standing next to the team and stepped back when one of the men ran to the ambulance to get a folding gurney and quickly returned.

While the EMTs slid a long spine board beneath Cinda’s body and carefully positioned her, Emmie winced at the cry Cinda let out. Ted’s hand gripped hers so hard that pain shot through it.

Ryan faced the men. “What can you tell me?” He waved Ted and Emmie over. “Tell us. We’re her family.”

“She’s stable, though the pain she’s experiencing is from a couple of broken bones and bruises. It’s lucky she was riding in a car like this. It could’ve been much worse.”

Emmie hadn’t noticed the policemen who had entered the scene and was surprised when one of them touched her arm, asking for information.

“The patient’s husband is right there,” she said, pointing out Ryan. “I think you need to talk to him. I didn’t see the accident happen.”

“Neither did I,” said Ted. “The patient is my daughter. Her husband is Ryan Cross. He mentioned the truck not stopping at the stop sign.”

“Okay, thanks,” said the policeman, moving away.

Ted accompanied the officer to Ryan and listened to Ryan’s version of how the accident happened. Then he helped Ryan get insurance information for the truck driver, a young kid who admitted to being on his cell. While the policemen did their work at the scene of the accident, Ted returned to Emmie.

They walked to the open end of the ambulance as the EMTs loaded Cinda inside, strapping the spine board to the bed of the gurney.

Emmie’s heart squeezed. Cinda looked so fragile.