A Curve in the Road(14)

He sniffles, and his voice shakes. “I still can’t believe this. How can he be gone? I’m never going to see him again?”

The question squeezes at my heart. “You’ll see him . . . at the wake. We’ll have an open casket, and you’ll be able to say goodbye.”

Zack breaks down completely. “Oh God . . . Mom . . . !”

“I’m so sorry, Zack. I shouldn’t have said that. I can’t believe any of this either, but we’ll get through it together. It’s going to be rough for a while, but at least we have each other. Don’t forget that. You know how much I love you.”

“I do, Mom.” He’s quiet for a moment. “But are you okay? You were in the accident too.”

I sniff and rub under my nose. “I’m totally fine. Please don’t worry.”

“Did they at least find Winston?” Zack asks.

I shut my eyes. “Not yet, but they’re still looking. I’m sure they’ll find him soon.”

But how can I say that when I don’t know for sure? After everything that’s happened tonight, I can’t help but fear the worst.

Dr. Sanders walks in and sees me on the phone. He points to his own head, indicating that he wants to examine the gash above my hairline.

I nod at him and say to Zack, “Listen, I have to hang up now. The doctor’s here. I’d like you to sleep at Jeremy’s tonight, and I’ll call you a little later, okay?”

“Okay, Mom,” he says. “I love you. Please call back soon.”

“I will, and I love you too, honey. More than anything.”

We hang up, and Dr. Sanders approaches to ask me some questions about my head. He grows concerned when he learns I was just sick in the bathroom, and he makes sure I understand that I need to stay for overnight observation.

“No one should be going anywhere in this storm anyway,” he adds, as if he knows how badly I want to go home and be with my son.

I have no choice but to agree, and the nurses are kind enough to offer my mother a bed to sleep on.

They are in the process of wheeling me out of the ER to a private room when I see my paramedic, Carrie, walking toward me with a look of concern. She’s talking on her cell phone, nodding her head, and somehow I know that she’s speaking to the first responder, Troy, and there’s news about Winston. My belly turns over with panic. For yet the hundredth time on this cursed night.





CHAPTER NINE

Carrie approaches. “I’m so sorry about your husband, Abbie. I really am.” She walks beside my wheelchair and gives my shoulder a gentle rub.

“Thank you.”

“But I thought you might like to know that I have Troy on the phone. He found Winston.”

I lay a hand over my heart. “Oh, thank goodness.”

Then I realize that Carrie isn’t smiling, and I’m not sure how much more heartbreak I can handle. “Please tell me he’s okay.”

The porter angles the wheelchair in front of the elevator door and pushes the button.

“He’s alive,” Carrie tells me. “But you should talk to Troy.”

She hands me the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Abbie?” Troy asks.

“Yes.”

“I heard about your husband. I’m so sorry.”

I fight another onslaught of tears and reply shakily, “Thank you.”

Troy pauses a few seconds. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is that we found Winston.”

“Where?” I ask, needing to know all the details but not wanting to hear the bad news just yet. I pray it’s not what I fear. I don’t know if I can take another hard blow at the moment.

“Near the off-ramp on the way back to town. We think he might have tried to follow the ambulance, but he gave up and collapsed by the side of the road.”

“Oh God.” I break down again. More tears stream down my cheeks because I can’t bear to think about how distraught and frightened Winston must have been as he chased after the ambulance. Did he think I’d abandoned him? Or that I was in trouble and needed him?

“It’s lucky we found him,” Troy says. “We’d just about given up the search because the weather was getting worse. We were on our way back to town when we spotted him. He was lying under a streetlight.”

I imagine my loyal dog, alone in the darkness and freezing rain, wanting only to protect me and thinking he’d failed.

“Where is he now?” I ask desperately. “Is he with you? Is he okay?”

The elevator bell dings, and the doors slide open. The porter pushes my chair forward, and my mother and Carrie both get on the elevator with us.

“He’s in the truck with me,” Troy replies. “I have his head on my lap. His eyes are open, but he’s cold, and he’s weak.”

“Put the phone next to his ear.” I want Winston to hear my voice. I wait a few seconds, and then I speak to him in a soothing, melodic tone. “Hey, Winston. What a good boy you are. They’re going to take good care of you, and I’ll come for you soon. I love you. Stay strong, okay?”

My voice breaks on the last words, and Troy takes the phone back.

“I just called one of the vets in town,” he says. “He has a clinic in his house, so he’s going to open up for us.”