Chapter 5: Charlie

This was the last place I wanted to be, but I had questions about the work I was doing for Jack on his ranch, and just because his life had stopped, didn't mean mine could. Someone had to keep his cattle and land watered, or he'd have far bigger issues than just Sarah when his ranch met its demise. My parents had thought it was a good idea for me to use this as an excuse to come check on Jack and Sarah. My mom had even sent me with a plate of food because she knew Jack wouldn't have eaten. That's what women in this town did. They fed people. A lady had a baby, they got casseroles. Someone got married, they catered the reception. Funeral-food. It was some Southern tradition that had passed from generation to generation, and I doubted I would ever understand it. But it did give me a reason to show up the day after the second tragedy of Jack's life fell on his shoulders.

I didn't have a clue where he might be. I imagined in whatever waiting room was closest to Sarah, but this was so far out of my comfort zone that I was lost. I started in the emergency room since that's where Randi and Austin had last seen Jack. I didn't have the details of that encounter but based on what my little brother had told my mom, it hadn't been pretty.

The antiseptic smell singed my nostrils as soon as I passed through the sliding glass doors and into the emergency room-or maybe it was the death they were trying to cover up that made my head hurt. I hated this place. Time seemed to stop inside these walls. People could wait for hours with a broken bone while others were rushed in and out on gurneys. Nurses and doctors scurried about like their tales were on fire, but then the woman at the nurses' station barely batted an eye. Nothing about her demeanor or her day looked hectic or frazzled. For a place that handled emergencies, nothing appeared to move. No one seemed to go anywhere. And by the time a staff member finally acknowledged a patient, it was only to usher that person to another room to wait.

I glanced around the ER and didn't see Jack or anyone else I knew, so I stepped up to the desk to ask the nurse where I could find them. She pointed me toward the elevator and to the seventh floor where Sarah was in surgery.

Even if Jack hadn't been the only person in the waiting room when I made it onto the floor, he would have stood out like a sore thumb. The man looked like he'd aged a decade overnight. His eyes were weary, and bags clung to them. I'd never noticed the weathered appearance of his skin from years out in the sun, but today, every wrinkle, scar, and divot was prominently displayed. And his knee bounced like a jackhammer.

"Hey, Jack." I took a seat next to him with the tinfoil-covered plate of food my mom had sent for him still in my hand.

He turned toward me, patted my knee, and gave me the feeblest attempt at a smile I'd ever seen. Fear clung to Jack like a wet shirt, and it wasn't a pretty sight. "Hey, son."

It wasn't unusual for Jack to use terms of endearment with me. I'd grown up with him at my table, in the pew next to me at church, and I'd worked with him for the better part of my adult life. But somehow, it seemed odd when his daughter's life hung in the balance.

"How's Sarah?" There wasn't an easy way to ask, and ignoring the circumstances would just be rude.

He ran a frail hand through his greying hair. "She's in surgery, but she hasn't woken up since the accident." Jack tried to sound optimistic, but his eyes gave him away.

I handed him the plate and shrugged. "Mom thought you might be hungry."

"She means well, Charlie. It's just what women do." He brought the plate to his nose. "Fried chicken?" he asked, the corner of his mouth tipping up.

I chuckled. Mom was famous around here for her chicken. "Yeah. She made it just for you. There was a peach cobbler in the oven when I left there a little while ago." I shook my head. "Leave it to the women in this town and you'll be fatter than butter."

Jack stood abruptly. I watched as he traveled the length of the room and back. If he were here very long, he'd wear a path into the floor. I didn't do small talk, and I sucked at empathy. I had questions I needed answers to, but I couldn't bring myself to cut to the chase. Instead, I sat in awkward silence. Jack returned to his seat, and that knee went to bouncing. He propped his elbow on the other thigh and covered his mouth. I could only imagine the thoughts that crossed his mind and the emotion that squeezed his heart. He'd lost his wife when she'd just up and left him eight or nine years ago-losing his daughter would destroy him.

I wanted to ask if there was anything I could do-I knew there wasn't-but he didn't appear to want to talk. I respected that, and I just waited by his side. I had things to do, but at the end of the day, it all paled in comparison to Jack's daughter's life. I didn't have a lot of details, but I could only imagine what kind of shape she was in after her sedan had been T-boned by a semi.

I finally broke the silence. "Can I get you some water? Coffee?" The lazy pop music that was piped through the waiting room only added to the stench of death, and I needed to move.

Jack nodded with his face still in his hands. Sweat beaded at his brow and slid down his craggy cheek. I wanted to offer him more than a bottle of water from a vending machine, but right now, I didn't have anything of comfort to suggest.

I stood and brushed off my jeans, and when I turned to ask if he'd like anything else, he'd closed his eyes. I wished my parents had come down here to hold his hand and wait this out instead of me. God help us both if the old man started to cry-I'd be out. I didn't do emotions on women, and there was no way I could handle it on a man. I left him to his business and stepped out into the hall.

While every floor in this place was different, essentially, they were all the same. As I passed a handful of nurses, I opted to head back to the last vending machine I'd seen instead of searching for one up here. It would give me time to compose myself and a few minutes to breathe away from Jack. I circled my way around chairs and meandered down the hall to the alcove with walls of vending machines. And just before I stepped into the alcove, Miranda Adams caught my eye-Sarah's little sister and my little brother's long-term girlfriend.

There wasn't much to her on a good day. She had the petite figure of a cheerleader with tight, toned, and tanned muscles, but I doubted she weighed a buck fifteen soaking wet. But what she lacked in size, she made up for in personality. Hers was bigger than life, and everyone loved her, especially my family. Yet, right now, she not only looked small, but she also looked lost-broken. Her eyes darted around the room as if she were searching for someone, and when she didn't find what she was looking for, she wrapped her arms around her middle and stepped up to the intake desk.

Jack had always spoken highly of her. They were tight, even though she tried his patience. She was Daddy's girl and had been going back as far as I could remember. Sarah was the one who always stood on the sideline, never engaging whereas Randi took the bull by the horns and held on for the full eight seconds.

But in the last twenty-four hours, that bond, that tether, that connection had snapped. Randi and Austin were somehow tied up in how the accident came to fruition, but my parents didn't have the big picture, and I wasn't asking Jack for clarification.

For the first time in all the years I'd known Randi-which had been her entire life-that spark was gone. Her flame had been extinguished. She didn't just look worried; she appeared sick-grey.

I couldn't hear what she said to the woman at the desk, but the lady never bothered to look up when she spoke. Not once did she even make eye contact with Randi. My brother's girlfriend trembled as she leaned in closer and spoke again. Then she righted herself abruptly like the sting of a slap had crossed her cheek, and the frustration on her face was evident. And then she lost her composure. "Can you give me any update about my sister? Please!"

God, I felt sorry for her.

I glanced around for Austin, unable to believe he'd let Randi out of his sight. Those two were like a matched pair, but I didn't see him. Even without a detailed account of what happened that landed Sarah here, I felt sorry for her sister. Anything she'd done hadn't intentionally brought Sarah here; unfortunately, reckless teenagers cause reckless repercussions. My condolences wouldn't be worth much, and I didn't have any reassurance to offer because I didn't know any more than she did-except which floor her sister and father were currently on.

The only thing the town knew for certain was that Sarah was in a bad way, and it wasn't a given that she would pull through. I hoped like hell Randi didn't have that burden to bear. She'd never be the same, and Jack would never forgive her. He'd all but blamed Randi yesterday, and Austin had stepped between them to keep the old man from hurting his girlfriend. It was best I stayed out of that drama.

I turned my back on Miranda in favor of the vending machines. I fed a few dollars into the machine and waited for the cans to roll out. I downed half of one as if it might provide some clarity or levity-it did neither. The sides of the bottle crunched as I swigged, and I thought about the irony of those sounds and the condition of the tin and wondered if Sarah had been aware of anything as it had happened.

When I left the vending area, Miranda was heading out the door. Her frustration was painted all over her body, and tears streamed down her cheeks. I didn't plan to tell Jack I'd seen her, but I felt a twinge of regret at not stepping up to offer her support. But she had Austin, and Mom had sent me here for Jack.

It dawned on me that in all the years I'd known Randi Adams, I'd never seen her cry.