When We Collide (36 page)

“They signed the discharge papers. Jonathan can go,”
she said. Her lip trembled and the tears broke free. They slid down
her face along the edge of her nose, her head inclined as she wove
her fingers through Jonathan’s hair. She seemed unable to meet my
face. “She loves this little boy so much. She’d do anything for
him.” Sorrow filled her face, and her mouth crested with a mournful
smile. “Whatever happens...” Her words broke. She swallowed and
finally turned the force of her gaze on me. “You know you saved his
life, don’t you?”

I flinched. How many times had I heard a news story
of a man taking the lives of his family then turning the gun on
himself? At times they’d seemed almost unbelievable because I
couldn’t fathom that kind of insanity. But we all knew that’s what
this had been. Troy had no intention of any one of us making it out
of that field alive.

“Listen...” Fidgeting, Amber diverted her attention
to the floor as she seemed to gather herself before she turned back
to me. “I need to know what your intentions are...with Jonathan
if...” She fisted her hand in front of her.

Neither of us wanted to have this conversation.
Neither of us wanted to acknowledge the possibility.

My voice was rough. “He’s my son.”

More tears came, though she nodded.

“Okay then.” She sniffled and gestured toward the
door. “We should go.”

Picking up Jonathan, I cradled him in my arms. He
felt heavier in his sleep, the full burden of his weight placed on
me. I brushed a kiss against his forehead.

It was just past three-thirty in the morning when we
entered the emergency surgery waiting room. It was empty except for
Blake and my mother. They watched me from across the room as I
settled into a chair. I shifted Jonathan to rest his head on my
shoulder when he stirred.

My mother’s expression was anguished when I met her
face, longing and sympathy predominant in the way she tilted her
head. Her dampened eyes roamed my son, although she stayed where
she was. Blake leaned against the wall, motioned at me with his
chin. We all knew now was not the time for introductions.

I laid my head back against the wall and closed my
eyes, welcoming the reprieve the darkness rendered. Behind the
seclusion of my lids, the visions were bright, filled with the only
girl I’d ever love. She danced ahead of me with our son’s hand in
hers. They turned and smiled. Their faces shined, brimming with
love and goodness.

I sought out her spirit, refusing to let go of my
prayer.

Please
.

A nurse came out a few minutes later to give us an
update. Maggie was still in surgery and they expected she would be
for a while. There was very little information she could give.

The waiting was harrowing. Hours passed, and the
window at the far end of the room dawned with light. Anxiety and
fatigue contended, twitched at my muscles and tugged at my mind. I
slowly rocked, held my child closer.

Please
.

At six twenty-four, a man dressed in blue scrubs
finally emerged through the door labeled
Emergency Surgery
.
He appeared haggard, his shoulders slumped and eyes weary.

“Family of Maggie Clemons?”

Shaking, I stood, unable to feel my legs beneath me.
The only sensation I had was my son in my arms and the need in my
heart. Amber came to my side, and my mother and brother rallied
behind us as the man crossed the room.

“I’m Dr. Braswell.” The surgeon glanced between
Amber and me. “Maggie pulled through the surgery.”

I turned my face to the ceiling, blinking back the
tears I could do nothing to stop. Relief flooded as a hurricane,
full force, an inundating surge that almost knocked me from my
feet. I exhaled the rush of emotion, a choked cry that sang of both
praise and torment.

She made it...she made it
.

Blake placed his hand on my shoulder in a silent
show of support.

I brought my attention back to the doctor whose
expression didn’t evidence the exquisite relief I felt.

“She has a long way to go.” The surgeon’s brow
creased, and he angled his head as if searching to see that we
understood the seriousness of what he was trying to convey. He
continued on, speaking softly and slowly. “Her injuries were
severe, but she got here within the one-hour window after injury
which significantly raises her chances of survival, plus the
gunshot came from a distance where the buckshot had begun to
spread.” He used his hands to demonstrate, spreading them wide
across his midsection. “Had the shot come from a closer range, she
most likely would not be here right now. She’s been transfused for
massive blood loss, and lacerations to her intestines have been
repaired. Her biggest risk now will be infection. She’s, of course,
still intubated after the surgery and will be in the recovery room
for about an hour before she’s transferred to intensive care on the
fourth floor. If you want to wait upstairs, they’ll let you know
when you can see her. Can I answer any questions?”

I had what felt like a million of them tumbling
through my mind, all adding up to one thought—
Just tell me she
will be okay
.

Instead of voicing it, all I could manage was a
small shake of my head and a mumbled, “Thank you.”

The man nodded and extended a tired, sympathetic
smile that appeared truly genuine. “I promise we’re doing
everything we can.”

Then he turned and walked away.

I pushed open the door. Another hour of waiting had
passed, though this one had been filled with a hope that had
blossomed and grew to penetrate every nerve, every cell, and every
breath.

Subdued light glowed from beneath a cupboard mounted
on the wall, illuminating a relatively small room. In the middle, a
bed sat higher from the floor than normal, and machines were
cluttered around it. I slowly approached. Tubes trailed from bags
to fill her veins, others pumped toxins from her body, and more
beeped as they monitored for life. Most prominent of all was the
ventilator that rhythmically inflated and deflated her chest. But
really, I saw none of those things.

I could only see the woman who had haunted my years
and now possessed my future.

I swept back the hair that was matted to her
forehead and pressed my lips to her clammy skin.

So broken.

The first time I’d seen her, I’d recognized it.
Across the flames that had crackled and lit, I’d witnessed it in
her eyes, had felt it pierce me somewhere deep. I’d known it in her
smile, in her words, and in her touch. I’d seen it when I returned,
when I ran her down and unleashed my anger on her in the middle of
my parent’s street. I’d felt it when I held her in front of her
mother’s back door.

I also knew she was the bravest person I’d ever
met.

She’d been terrorized her entire life.

And still she’d taken the chance.

I took her hand and whispered near her ear, “You
can’t leave before you get the chance to start.”

Sunlight seeped between the trees swaying in the
gentle breeze. Yellow and red leaves fell from branches and flitted
to the ground, the October air cool and crisp.

As I always had been, I was drawn to her. My eyes
swept across the lawn to where she rocked gently on my mother’s
porch swing next to Grace.

It had been eight months since the night that had
nearly destroyed our lives.

Her auburn waves tumbled over one shoulder, and her
head was inclined as her mouth lifted in an unrestrained smile as
she listened to whatever Grace had to say.

With a look, Maggie still stole my breath.

She glanced up as if she felt my gaze. That
unrestrained smile softened and filled with an emotion that she
reserved only for me.

The one I returned was full of adoration.

I’d never imagined it could really be this way. For
so long, she’d been something forbidden, something I could never
fully attain. A dream. A girl I’d been desperate for, but one who
had remained so far out of reach.

Now, she was mine, and I was hers, the secrets we’d
whispered with our mouths and bodies no longer concealed or hidden
away.

Grace continued to speak, and Maggie smiled in a
gentle way that promised
later
before she turned back to the
conversation they were sharing.

I couldn’t help the joy from forming on my face.

“Uncle Will, you’re it!” Emma squealed, smacking the
back of my leg as she ran by. I laughed and jumped back into the
game. Emma dashed ahead, her smile wide when she glanced over her
shoulder, black hair flying as she raced across my parents’ front
yard.

“Come on, Emma!” Blake called his encouragement from
where he stood manning the grill. He tossed me a knowing grin.
“Don’t let him get you!”

“I’m right behind you,” I teased as I drew closer,
allowing her to stay a foot ahead.

She howled with laughter. “Run, Jonathan!” she
screamed and reached a hand out toward him as she flew by. “Or else
he’s gonna get you!”

Diverting my path, I darted toward Jonathan whose
eyes went wide from where he stood frozen before he turned and ran.
A giggle started in his belly, a low and subdued rumble before it
burst from his mouth. He threw his head back and laughed toward the
sky. “No, Daddy! No!”

My chest tightened, so full, so much.

No, I never imagined it could be this way.

It didn’t mean our lives weren’t filled with
hardships, that each day there wasn’t a small struggle we had to
overcome or a giant obstacle we had to face.

It just meant it was worth it.

Maggie’s physical recovery had been long and
difficult, but it was the emotional wounds that still plagued our
days and haunted our nights. On some level, I knew they always
would, though each day seemed to get a little easier than the
last.

When Maggie had been released from the hospital, we
had moved into my old room in my parents’ house for about a month
to give Jonathan a safe, neutral place to adjust. A quiet place for
Maggie to heal. A place where Jonathan and I could learn each other
and reclaim the relationship we’d never had.

An old couch had been shoved against the wall below
the window. For a month I’d slept alone on it in the few moments
when any of us could actually sleep.

Immediately, Jonathan had been placed with a
therapist, someone to help him begin working through the trauma he
had witnessed that night. Really, to help him work through the
abuse he’d witnessed all of his life. It was then the nightmares
had begun. It seemed once he finally felt safe during the day, the
fears he’d kept long-repressed had sought release during the
night.

For both Maggie and me, they had unleashed the guilt
from our mistakes—me for running, Maggie for staying.

I had paced with the child for hours, back and forth
over the creaky floor, holding him in the security of my arms while
he cried. Then I would hold Maggie in my old bed while she wept
after Jonathan had fallen back to sleep. She’d cry that she had
done this to her child, while I promised her it wasn’t her fault.
In her exhaustion, she would finally drift and I would stare
sleepless out the darkened window, wondering why in the hell I
hadn’t done things differently.

Guilt was deceitful that way.

I would often sit in the hall while Jonathan and
Maggie were in their sessions, banging my head and wishing I could
somehow remove all of their pain.

That had been something I’d had to accept—I couldn’t
just make it all better or make it go away.

But I could love them and support them, show
Jonathan what it was like to have a dad who loved his mother, a dad
who treated her with respect and like the treasure she was. A dad
who was there for his son and listened when he spoke and paced with
him in his arms when he cried.

It had taken Jonathan three months to call me
that—
Daddy
. They’d warned me he may have a negative
association with the term, and I had been told I should allow it to
come naturally. Jonathan knew I was his father, and when he was
comfortable, it would come out. When it finally did, it left me
with without words and with Jonathan in my arms.

I still wasn’t sure whether I believed time could
heal. Six years apart and the depth of what I felt for Maggie had
never dimmed, could never be buried or contained.

But I was sure love could heal.

No. We would never be completely free of the past,
and the memories could never be entirely wiped away, but we
were
healing. Jonathan’s dreams came further and further
apart, their intensity less. Maggie rarely cried herself to sleep
anymore, and I no longer stared unseeing out the window, but
instead slept wrapped around the girl.

The girl I was going to marry as soon as she was
ready. I didn’t want to push her. I would wait until just learning
how to breathe didn’t consume her days.

I ran behind Emma and Jonathan as they rounded the
end of the yard and headed back the other direction.

“Grammy is base!” Emma called and the two children
ran, their legs sprinting them across the grass. Little Olivia did
her best to keep up with the
big kids
, suddenly cutting
across the yard midway, completely oblivious to the “rules” Emma
had set up for their play.

Jonathan and Emma tumbled into their grandmother who
waited with outstretched arms under the tree at the edge of the
yard.

“Safe!” she cried as the two tackled her.

My dad whistled from his spot on the porch. “You
made it, Emma and Jonathan!”

I laughed and fell to the ground beside them.

“You two are way too fast for me.” I panted as I
tried to catch my breath. I tugged Jonathan onto my lap and hugged
him close. He tucked his head under my chin and grinned up at me. A
rush of emotion spread.