Dreams of Us Read Online Free PDF Page A

Sweetheart."
    "What happened?"
    "You were in a car accident."
    "What happened to my arm?"
    "You've already had surgery on it, baby. It's mostly your hand. They're taking good care of you."
    I blinked as I stared down at the huge bandage incasing my arm and hand. Surgery?
    "How long have I been here?"
    "Two days."
    We were all silent for several long seconds while they gave me a chance to let that sink in.
    "Did you know a man named Heath Stephenson?" my dad asked, breaking the silence.
    "Honey, I think we should give her the chance to wake up a little bit before we ask her about that."
    They exchanged a married couple glance, after which I could tell my dad resolved to drop the subject.
    "I know him," I said. "Why?"
    "He did this to you," my dad said, gritting his teeth. He was whispering, but I could tell he was angry.
    "You need to calm down, Carl."
    "What happened?" I asked, my voice coming out in a faint whisper.
    "He's lucky he died, or I'd kill him myself," my dad said.
    "Carl Black, now, you just calm yourself down. Bailey's just waking up. She doesn't need to be bombarded with this right no—"
    "What happened?" I asked again, looking at my mom.
    She sighed. "Some detectives came in yesterday. I'm sure they'll be back to talk to you once they hear you're awake." She breathed another long sigh. "Apparently, this wasn't an accident, sweetheart."
    "Was he trying to kill me?" I asked, still feeling confused.
    My dad let out an angry groan at the sound of my question. He stood up and began pacing.
    "I guess he was trying to kill himself, and hurt you in the process," my mom answered calmly. "The police found a letter with his intentions in the car with him."
    We sat in silence for what must have been four or five minutes—long enough that my mom sent my dad to Chick-fil-A to get them a sandwich. I didn't know what to ask, and I didn't even know if I wanted the answers to my questions.
    "You're gonna be just fine," my mom said, finally. "We've been really impressed by the doctors and staff here. They're taking good care of you."
    "Where are we?"
    "The UC Medical Center," she said. "You were airlifted from the scene of the accident. Someone saw it happen and called the authorities right away. Your father and I came as soon as we got word."
    "What's wrong with my hand?"
    "I guess it was crushed by the steering column. They had to do surgery. You didn't have any internal bleeding, though, which is obviously a huge blessing. You did hit your head. You have a concussion. That's why you're all bandaged up." She gestured and my head, which I realized had a huge bandage around it. I reached up with my right hand to touch it gently.
    "Careful not to pull out your IV," she said. "Your sister was up here all day yesterday, and several of your friends have stopped by, but we pretty much just send them on their way and tell them you'll be in touch when you get back on your feet." She motioned to all the flowers. "You have a lot of people who love you and are praying for you, sweetheart."
    Hearing her say the word "praying" made my thoughts turn to God. I wondered where He was during all of this. I wondered how I wound up in a hospital bed during a time when I was seeking Him the most. I was lost in thought when someone tapped on the door. Whoever it was didn't wait for a response before entering the room.
    "I heard somebody woke up," the man said as he came to stand at the foot of my bed. He was young, but he was wearing a white coat and carrying a clipboard that I assumed contained my charts. "I'm Dr. Crawford," he said smiling down at me. "And you're the famous Bailey Black. We met in the operating room, but I'm sure you don't remember much of that."
    I smiled and shook my head. I had the strangest urge to sit up and adjust my hair, but that was probably because he looked like a Ralph Lauren ad.
    "Dr. Crawford did the surgery on your hand," my mom explained.
    "I assisted in the surgery," he clarified. "I'm in my last year of