Seven (26 page)

“It’s Savannah,” she says quietly.

Everything about her expression sobers me in an instant. “Where is she Rache? Where did she go? Is she ok?”

Rachel leans forward and places her hands on my shoulders. She challenges me to focus on her eyes when she speaks next. “Bryant, Savannah was in an accident. I don’t know when. I don’t know how. I don’t know any of the particulars. Savannah didn’t show up for work this morning, and you hadn’t heard from her yet, and then…”

“And then what? Jesus Christ, Rachel, what happened?” I whisper.

Please don’t let her be dead
.

Please, God, don’t take her from me

“And then I saw the paper this morning.” Rachel shows me the front page of today’s paper. The front headline reads, STORM and FOG CAUSES NEAR FATAL ACCIDENT.”

Near fatal?

Something doesn’t seem right as I glance through the article quickly. It doesn’t mention victims or anything like that, nor does it tell me what kind of vehicle was involved in the crash. All the picture shows is a semi-truck jack-knifed along the side of the road. “Rache, this says it happened near Elizabethtown. She would’ve had no reason to go there. This can’t be her. This kind of accident could’ve been anyone. What makes you think it was Sev…”

Rachel interrupts me, “Because I had this feeling in my chest when I saw the paper this morning, and since nobody has seen or heard from her, I needed to make sure that it wasn’t her, so I called her mom and…and…” Tears begin to run down Rachel’s face, confirming what I don’t want to believe.

Everything in my stomach rolls. I look at Rachel with a blank expression. In my mind, I’m trying to decide which is closer, the bathroom or the front flower bed. My body makes my mind up for me when I swing open the front door again and hoist myself over the porch railing where all of the pain I tried to hide in bourbon last night comes right back to me. I vomit three or four times-I lose count-before I end up dry heaving. I hear Rachel’s footsteps behind me and then see a towel hanging from her outreached hand.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“You’re welcome. You okay?”

“Yeah. Too much bourbon. I’m good.” I breathe. “I’m good.”

Fuck.

Seven…

This is on me.

“It’s all my fault Rache. I did this.”

“You didn’t cause her to have an accident Bryant.”

“She left here because of me. If that wouldn’t have happened, she would be lying naked in my bed right now.” I point in the direction of my bedroom down the main hall.

“Let’s not talk about faults right now, okay? Grab whatever you need and let’s go.”

“I don’t need anything. Let me just lock up. Where is she?”

“Elizabethtown.”

“What the hell is she doing there? That’s west of here! Why would she have gone west of here?”

“I don’t know, Bryant. I just know that’s where she is. Go get yourself a bottle of water and some crackers or something and then come on, I’ll drive. You’re in no state.”

She’s right. My head is still spinning. Drinking so much last night was the stupidest idea I’ve ever had...besides the obvious. I mentally slap myself for spending my night in a self-loathing drunken stupor while Savannah was God-knows-where getting involved in an accident.

Please don’t leave me Sev.

I’m on my way to you.

I can only pray that she’ll want to have anything to do with me when we get there.

Chapter 29

Bryant

We’re pulling into the parking garage of Hardin Memorial Hospital in just under thirty minutes. My heart is trying to beat itself out of my chest. Thank God Rachel offered to drive so that I could take the time to sober up as much as possible. I down my entire bottle of water and shoved as many goldfish crackers as I could into my mouth, as well as a few Advil. It wasn’t my hangover remedy of choice, but Savannah is more important. Before we exit Rachel’s car, I run my tongue over my teeth.

“Shit. You got any mints Rache? Or some gum? I didn’t even get a minute to brush my damn teeth and now I’m going to be meeting Savannah’s parents.”

Although neither of us feel the urge to laugh, she smirks at me before diving into her purse. “Yeah I have Altoids in here somewhere.” She shuffles through until I hear the familiar jingle of mints in a tin. She hands it to me and I open it pulling out no less than six mints.

“Those are curiously strong you know,” Rachel says, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

“Don’t care. Anything to help erase the bourbon breath. I don’t need her parents thinking I’m a drunk.”

Rachel tilts her head and looks at me sympathetically. “Relax. They’re not going to think that. I’ll vouch for you if I have to. You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Together we walk into the main entrance where the smell of a hospital hits me right in the face. Immediately my mind flashes back to a few years ago when I’m sitting in a hospital, day after day, waiting on better news for Ivy’s recovery. We stop quickly at the front desk where an older man and woman both sit, wearing matching vests over their clothes. Volunteers.

“Can I help you, dear?” the white-haired lady asks me as we approach. Her smile is gentle and warm and she seems eager to help.

“Uh, yes. You can actually. I’m looking for Savannah Turner. Can you please tell me what room she’s in?

“Yes. Absolutely.” She sees the urgency in my eyes but it doesn’t make her move any faster. We stand waiting patiently, but I feel the anxiety rising the longer and longer I stand here. The older gentleman sitting at the desk types in Savannah’s name into his computer and looks back up to me.

“Sir, she’s in the ICU. That’s on the second floor. Room seven.”

“ICU? Are you sure?” Rachel said she was in an accident, but never in a million years did I think it would’ve been an accident landing her in the damn ICU. Immediately I’m sweating, my body threatening me to give me back the crackers and water I recently ingested.

“Yes, sir,” the gentleman says
.

Fuck.

It’s bad?

“Room seven,” I repeat in a mumble. A quick look to Rachel and I’m rolling my eyes at the irony. “Of course. She hates the number seven...thank you, sir,” I say to him. “Come on Rache.”

We run to the elevators and hastily press the button for the second floor. Once we arrive, Rachel leads us down a hallway to a nurse’s station where she asks about Savannah. The nurse types Savannah’s name into the electronic tablet she’s holding and looks back to us.

“Are you family?”

“Uh…” I hesitate. I’m almost ready to lie just so I can see her but Rachel speaks up before I decide to.

“Not exactly, no. I’m a friend of Savannah’s.” She nods in my direction. “But this is…”

“My name is Bryant Wood, ma’am. Savannah is my…”

Shit, what do I say?

“Fiancé!” Rachel blurts out. I look to her dumbfounded but she only raises her eyebrows slightly at me.

Right…only relatives
…

“Please, can you tell me anything about what happened to her? How is she? Can I see her?”

How many people do I have to ask to just see her?

I fear for a moment that she’s going to tell me I’m not allowed to see Savannah. I’m preparing myself to either beg for admittance or simply push past her and find Savannah myself. Before I decide what I’m going to say, the nurse eyes me over quickly, throwing me her most empathetic smile.

“Let me walk you down. Her room is number seven. It’s just down here, last door on the left.”

“Thank you.” We both follow her down the hall.

“My name is Helen. I’m one of the nurses in charge of Savannah’s care. Before you enter her room I feel like I should give you the heads up on what you should expect. The doctor can give you more information when he arrives for his rounds.”

I take a deep breath, blowing it out full steam as we walk down the hall. “Okay, I would appreciate that very much. Thank you,” I tell her.

“Right now Savannah is unconscious.”

“WHAT?” I ask a little too loudly. “Why? What does that mean?”

“That means her pain meds have sedated her to keep her comfortable and out of severe pain while she heals. She just hasn’t woken up yet, but she will.  It’s not uncommon for cases like hers, but the doctors say there was no evidence of swelling in her brain, despite the hairline fracture to her skull. Everything seems normal in terms of brain function. She just needs to rest now. She’ll wake up when her body is ready. Once she’s awake, we’ll assess her and hopefully be able to move her from the ICU. She’s just here now as a precaution.”

“Oh thank Christ,” I say as I bend over at the waist, my hands landing on my knees. I take a moment to breathe in and out a few times. Rachel rubs my shoulder in support. Damn if I’m not being the biggest pussy right now, but the girl I love could end up with part of her skull removed.

“Are you okay Mr. Wood?” Helen asks softly. Her eyes tell me she understands all too well my reaction. I suppose working every day in the ICU, where many people don’t make it out alive, she sees a lot of people like me.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry.” I stand up once again and step forward towards Savannah’s room.

“She may not look the same to you right now as she’s suffered many facial contusions and has a broken nose. It definitely looks like she took a beating, but in time and if needed, a little physical therapy, everything should heal.”

“Can she…umm…can she hear me if I talk to her?”

Helen smiles. “We can never know for sure but if you’re asking me my personal opinion, I say absolutely. Let her know you’re here for her. It can only help with her recovery.”

I nod.

“Thank you Helen,” Rachel says.

“You’re welcome.” Helen steps back, retreating to the nurse’s station and allowing Rachel and me to visit with Savannah.

When we open the door though, we’re not alone. Two older people are seated at either side of Savannah’s bed. Though it’s been many, many, years, I recognize them as Savannah’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Sanders.

“Bryant Wood!” Mrs. Sanders says quietly with a pleasing smile, much to my surprise. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Hello Mrs. Sanders.”

She gets up from her chair and crosses the room, her arms outstretched welcoming a hug. “It’s so good to see you. Savannah told us that she’s been seeing you a good bit these days. I’m so glad she found someone who cares for her after all she’s been through.”

Nodding I say, “I care for her very much, Mrs. Sanders. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I only just found out about her accident a little over an hour ago.”

I swallow the damn lump in my throat, praying that the word
GUILTY
doesn’t etch itself across my forehead. It’s my fault Savannah’s in here. Wait till Mrs. Sanders hears that one. She won’t like me so much then. I turn quickly to Mr. Sanders who is already standing, and shake his hand.

“Mr. Sanders. I’m Bryant Wood. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Good to meet you too, Bryant,” he says calmly. I can tell by his inflection that he’s worried about his baby girl.

I watch as Rachel hugs Mrs. Sanders as well. She’s way more comfortable with Savannah’s family than I am since they’ve been friends longer. While the three of them are catching up, I turn myself toward Savannah and silently study her, but I’m screaming on the inside. She looks so peaceful just lying there, covered in a white sheet, but everything else about her portrays a horrible nightmare. Her eyes are black and blue; her nose is swollen to at least double the size that it was. Her right arm is in a cast from her hand all the way up and over her elbow with a matching full leg cast on her right leg.

Oh Seven.

What the fuck happened to you?

I did this.

The chaos of sounds around her is unsettling. The woosh of the IV machine, the constant beeping of the heart monitor. It’s hard to listen to.

“How is she?” I ask.

“She’s stable for now.” Mr. Sanders says. “The doctor said she has a broken nose, a broken elbow and a dislocated knee. They did whatever surgeries they needed to do and ran tests. From what they’re telling us, only time will tell.”

“How long has she been asleep?” Rachel asks.

“Umm…we got here last night and she was in surgery, so I would say maybe twelve hours now? They told us to not be shocked if she sleeps through most of today and part of tomorrow.”

“I just don’t understand it though,” Mrs. Sanders says, running a hand up and down Savannah’s leg. “She texted me last night and said she was on her way to our place to visit, but she ended up here in Elizabethtown. What on earth was she doing here? She doesn’t know anybody over here, does she Rachel?”

Rachel looks to me quickly before she says “Uh, no. Not that I know of at least. I mean, I don’t know all of her friends so I guess I really couldn’t say.”

“It’s my fault.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I had the chance to catch them.

Damnit.

“What do you mean it’s your fault?” Mrs. Sanders asks.

I take a deep breath closing my eyes before I begin to explain.

The truth will set me free in one way or another.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, Savannah and I…” My voice trembles. “I screwed up. I kept something from her that I knew would hurt her
because
I knew it would hurt her and she found out last night and…”

“Are you sleeping with other women, Bryant?” Mr. Sanders throws his hands up in defense. “I mean I don’t want think about my baby girl in that situation but if you’re running around with someone else…”

“NO SIR!” I say almost too emphatically. “It’s nothing like that. Please, you have to understand that I love your daughter. I love her more than anyone else, except for my own baby girl, Ivy Lynn.”

“You have a daughter?” Mr. Sanders is surprised to hear this news.

“Of course he has a daughter. You knew that, James. We talked about it a while back.” Mrs. Sanders comes to my aid, though her help doesn’t make me feel any less uncomfortable.

“Right. Right. I remember now. You were married before?” Mr. Sanders nods.

I shake my head. “No, sir. Ivy’s mother and I never married. We were stupid and made a mistake that we didn’t want to further complicate with a marriage that meant nothing to either of us. The baby was our number one concern. Samantha passed away a few days after giving birth to Ivy. She had three blood clots in her lung that the doctors couldn’t find fast enough.”

Both Mr. and Mrs. Sanders look taken aback. I’m not certain if it’s because of the fact that Ivy’s mother and I never married or the fact that Samantha passed away and I’m now a single father. There’s a moment of awkward silence where I don’t know whether they’re waiting for me to go on and tell them everything or if they just want to drop the whole thing. They deserve the truth though and if I’m going to have any chance reconciling things with Savannah, I’m going to need her parents on board.

“My daughter, Ivy, she’s almost three years old, but she was diagnosed with Biliarty Atresia when she was about eighteen months.”

“Oh heaven almighty, that poor babe,” Mrs. Sanders says breathlessly.

I nod my head slowly. “It was a rough time for us both as we waited on the donor list for Ivy to get a new liver, but we were blessed with a perfect match donor back in January of 2013. Since then it’s been one doctor visit after another making sure that she continues to be okay.”

“Praise the Lord,” Mrs. Sanders says smiling.

“Yeah well…that’s the tricky part Mrs. Sanders. What eats away at parents whose kids receive perfectly matched organs is the fact that on the other end of that organ, is a life lost. I mean how can I be happy and grateful that my kid is alive and well because another child died?” My damn eyes are watering. I blink several times and look up to the ceiling in hopes that they’ll stay in my eyes and not drip down my face. I feel like I’m about the make the worst confession of my life.

“Oooh, bless your heart, Bryant. Don’t you go beating yourself up for something like that. Little Ivy’s life should be celebrated.”

I can’t.

This is too hard.

Shit!

“Mrs. Sanders, it was Peyton’s liver that went to Ivy that day.” Fuck. I’m crying like a scared little baby. “Ivy’s alive because Peyton didn’t make it. I received a letter from Savannah about six months later through the Give Life Organization, but those letters are designed for the donor family to not know who they’re sent to at first.” Tears are shamefully trickling down my face. My chest constricts and I bend over slightly to try and catch my breath. “I didn’t want to tell her because what are the chances that something like that would happen? That both families would at least recognize each other. I…I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t hurt her like that again. I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry. I wish there was something I could’ve done differently back then, but I just couldn’t. I was too damn scared to approach Savannah about it.”