Written in the Scars(70)

“I’m honestly not sure,” he says and I believe him. The lines on his face soften. “They just asked that you arrive as quickly as possible. Can I give you a ride?”



The car flies down the highway, past the fields now waiting on spring to arrive for the next crop. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, nothing feels different than any other Thursday morning, except I’m in Mr. Walters’ car going a wild rate of speed as I try to get ahold of Lindsay.

Every time it rings, it goes dead.

“Shit!” I say, ending yet another failed attempt at getting through. “I can’t take this.”

My head falls in my hands and I force air in then out of my lungs. My heart is beating violently in my chest as every worst-case scenario fires through my brain.

“Elin, if it was anything incredibly wrong, don’t you think we’d have heard it on the radio? Or gotten some wind of it in the media?” His hand lands on my knee and I stare at it. It feels heavy, the weight of it sitting awkwardly on my leg. He withdraws it quickly.

“I don’t know,” I reply, wishing he’d shut up. I know he’s trying to help, but I need to think. I scroll to Ty’s name and call his number for the hundredth time.

Straight to voice mail.

My hand shakes uncontrollably as I concentrate on my breathing and I try to convince myself this is going to be okay.

Feeling my phone buzz in my hand, I jump. “Hey!” I say as soon as I swipe it on. “Lindsay? Where are you?”

“Heading to Blackwater.”

The one word etched with a sob so deep, so distressing, it shatters what’s left of my nerves.

It must be Jiggs. They wouldn’t call her if something happened to Ty.

My breathing becomes jagged as I see my brother’s face, hear his stupid laugh, imagine his eyes lighting up as he teased me growing up about what I got for Christmas.

I nearly drop my phone.

Dear God, let him be okay. Let them all be okay. Let this be some stupid meeting about healthcare or 401K’s.

“What did they say?” I ask, my voice crackling with the tears I’m trying desperately to hold back. “Did they tell you anything?”

“No. They just said I needed to come to the headquarters as soon as possible.”

Tears roll down my cheeks as she cries into the phone. “Are you alone?” I ask.

“Yes. I’m driving myself. I’m on Five Mile Road now, almost there.”

“I think you’re just ahead of me,” I say, spotting a blue car a mile or so up the road.

“Why are you out here?” she asks, sniffling. “Did they call you too?”

I nod, then realize she can’t see me. “Yes.”

“Oh, Elin,” she says, sobbing once again. “What can it be?”

“Linds, stop. We’ll be there in just a minute. Maybe it’s nothing,” I offer, although I don’t believe it. Not the way this has gone down.

I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“I’m here. I’ll see you inside,” she says and disconnects the call.

I look at Mr. Walters and he offers me a sad smile, so I look away. Pity isn’t wanted. There’s no reason for it. Everything is going to be okay.





ELIN


We pull to the front door and I spy Lindsay’s car in the emergency lane, but I don’t see her anywhere.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Mr. Walters asks.

“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the ride,” I say, jumping out of the car before it’s to a complete stop and heading for the glass doors with Blackwater Coal printed in black across the front.

The warm air smacks me in the face, making my perceived suffocation even more real. I look frantically at the faces in front of me.

Men, women, some in suits, some in mining vests. Some wearing glasses, others hardhats. The one thing in common: the look of devastation and fear on their faces.

“I’m Elin Whitt,” I sputter, slamming my purse on the counter. “Someone called.”

For a brief moment, no one moves. I look from face to face, willing one of them to step forward and give me answers.

“Follow me, Mrs. Whitt,” a large, burly man says. He starts down a long hall, turning to me as he walks. “I’m Vernon Trent, Chief Officer of Safety with Blackwater.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, peering through windows into offices as we come to the end of the hallway. I don’t see Lindsay. “I need to find my sister-in-law. She got a call too.”

A hiccup catches the rest of my words. Vernon stops at the doorway to a closed room. “She’s in here. Please, follow me.”

“This better be some stupid meeting about insurance . . .”

The door opens and I spy Lindsay pacing along the far wall. She turns as I enter, her mascara-streaked face racing towards me. I catch her in a hug, our arms winding around one another. I can’t cry. I won’t. Everything is going to be okay.

“It’s fine,” I say as promisingly as I can. “Shhh. Everything will be fine.” Brushing her hair away from her face, I pull back to see her face. “Have they told you anything?”

“Not yet.”

“Ladies.” Vernon’s voice fills the room, a commanding, yet kind tone that has us turning on our heels. He’s standing at the front of the room, flanked by a woman in a navy blue skirt and jacket, pearls, and her hair curled like a ’50’s housewife. A man stands on his other side in a crumpled looking black suit and tie. None of them look pleased to be standing in front of us.