CHAPTER 9
953 Words
CHAPTER 9
Kennedy had to stand up. Had to move her legs. She paced back and forth along the far wall of the ER waiting room where she hoped not too many patients and visitors could overhear. “What do you mean they think Nick did it? That’s ridiculous.” She tested her words, surprised they didn’t come out a little more forcefully.
“I know, but everyone heard them fighting. That’s the thing. And that dumb detective doesn’t know him. He doesn’t care. I tried explaining to him that Nick and Carl have fought for years and never once did it turn violent, but he was all like, I’ll question you if I’ve got any time after I’m finished with your boyfriend, and he just lifted his little coffee cup in my face and basically told me where to go.”
Coffee cup? That sounded familiar. “Is it Drisklay?” Kennedy asked.
“Is what drizzling? Outside? No, it’s been perfectly clear all day.”
“No, I mean the detective. Is his name Drisklay?”
“I don’t know.” Willow’s voice was agitated, but at least she wasn’t crying anymore. “His name could be Tutankhamen for all I care. I just want him to leave Nick out of this. He had nothing to do with any of it. Everyone knows that.”
Kennedy believed her, but she also had to admit that with as loudly as Nick had been arguing with Carl, it would be amiss for the detective to fail to at least ask him a few standard questions. She thought about how bloody his hands were when he stumbled down the hallway of St. Margaret’s.
“What should we do?” Willow asked softly.
“Just try not to worry for one thing. Drisklay’s a pain, but he’s not an i***t. He’ll question Nick, and he’ll do a thorough enough job that it’ll be obvious he didn’t have anything to do with the accident. And then you can talk to the detective yourself and tell him the same thing. Nick and Carl fight all the time. Everyone who spends more than five minutes at St. Margaret’s knows that.”
Kennedy was trying to lighten the mood, but Willow didn’t laugh.
“I just hate thinking of him in there being treated like some terrorist suspect or something ...”
“That’s not what’s happening. It’s going to be all right. Drisklay’s just doing his job. It’s not personal, and Nick has absolutely nothing to worry about.”
“You sure?” Willow sounded so hopeful. So trusting.
Kennedy took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m sure. This will all blow over. You’ll see.”
Willow sighed. “I hope so. What’s the news on Carl?”
“No news yet.” Kennedy checked the time. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since she arrived.
“Well, you know we’re all praying for him. We got the whole youth group together. All the teens and the helpers, and we spent our time in the sanctuary praying for Carl. You should have been there. It was really special.”
Kennedy’s throat was sore. “I bet it was.”
“You doing ok? Not feeling too anxious or anything? I mean, of course we’re all nervous, but you know what I’m saying.”
“No panic attacks,” Kennedy told her, deciding to take the direct approach to Willow’s question. “Nothing like that.” Maybe her pills really were helping. She thought about what she and Woong had talked about, how sometimes God heals people through miracles and sometimes through medicine. It still counted as healing because it still came from God, right?
She shouldn’t feel guilty, should she?
“Kennedy!”
She turned at the sound of the voice from the opposite side of the lobby. “I better go,” she told Willow. “Sandy’s here.”
“Let me know what you find out,” Willow said. “The worst part is just waiting around like this.”
“I know. I’ll be sure to call you right back or at least send you a text. Gotta run.” Kennedy ended the call, disappointed to find she only had one-and-a-half bars of battery life left. She didn’t think she’d been talking that long, but it didn’t matter. She hurried over to Sandy and Woong. “What’s going on?”
Sandy’s face was calm and serene, but her voice trembled. “Well, we’ve got some good news, and we’ve got some bad news.”
Kennedy braced herself.
Sandy kept Woong pressed against her side, only this time he didn’t try to squirm away but rested his cheek against her side, hiding part of his face in the folds of her dress. Sandy cleared her throat. “So, the good news is we got him here so fast, and the ambulance crew did such a good job tending to him on the road. He really couldn’t have received any better care.”
Sandy’s use of the past tense sent Kennedy’s whole body into a dizzying spiral.
“I better sit down.” Sandy scooped Woong onto her lap and buried him against her shoulder. He didn’t pull away.
Kennedy had no recollection of moving but realized she was sitting down now, too.
Sandy stroked Woong’s head with one hand and wiped her cheek with the other. “It’s harder than I thought it would be to say this.”
Kennedy’s throat was almost entirely swollen shut or she would have found some way to offer Sandy a word of comfort or encouragement.
Sandy sniffed and continued to caress her son. “By the time the ambulance got him here, Carl had stopped breathing. The man I talked to wasn’t sure why. Said it might be from blood loss or maybe something like shock.” She cleared her throat again and lowered her voice. “He said it might also be the result of brain injury. They won’t know more until they run some tests, but they’re getting him hooked up to life support. Or maybe they’ve finished by now. I didn’t ask how long it would take.”
“Did you get to see him?” Kennedy asked.
Sandy shook her head. “No, this is all from the paramedic I talked to, one of the ambulance crew. He’s the one who let me know about how he stopped breathing on the road. Those folks saved your daddy’s life.” She spoke into Woong’s head of black hair. “We’ve got to remember to thank God for them every single day. You listening to me?”
Woong nodded but kept his face hidden.
Kennedy reached out and touched Sandy’s arm. “What can I do?” she asked. She couldn’t remember any time all year when she’d felt so helpless.
Sandy grabbed hold of her hand. “You can pray with me. And we’ve got to pray hard.”
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