Winter's Tide Read Online Free PDF Page A

boots.
    Mama came to my doorway, yanking her arm into her red sweater. “About ready?”
    â€œI don’t know what kind of staff the hospital has on Christmas Eve,” Barry said as he came to my door. “Let’s go.”
    I followed them downstairs and slid into the back seat of Barry’s SUV, still blinking sleep out of my eyes. Barry skidded out of the garage.
    â€œBarry! Careful!” Mama said. “You’ll have an accident too!”
    Barry didn’t say anything, just backed out, making the tires squeal when he switched into drive.
    We raced down our street, past all the Christmas lights. One yard had a Santa and all his reindeer. The Rudolph had a blinking red nose. For some reason, it looked like a warning light rather than something festive.
    â€œHe lost control of the car when he was turning into the entrance of our neighborhood and drove into the stone wall,” Barry said. “We’ll probably see the car.”
    We turned out of the entrance and there, smashed into the stone marker, was the black Mustang, its hood accordioned and top flattened, the driver’s door hanging open. The stone marker was demolished, with cracked and broken stones strewn on the manicured ground. A police car and a tow truck stood nearby, their lights flashing.
    We all gasped. Barry slowed, then gunned the motor as he turned onto the access road. We sped through the quiet, dark streets and across the highway toward the hospital. Barry’s driving scared me. He didn’t talk. Daddy would have at least talked to us.
    By the time we parked, it was starting to rain. Pinpricks of rain stippled the windshield and water glistened on the asphalt. We ran through the cold rain inside and were sent to the surgical waitingroom, which had walls lined with cushioned orange chairs and two low round coffee tables piled with old thumbed-through magazines. A gray-haired man sat in one corner with his head in his hands.
    After we had waited for a few minutes, a doctor in green scrubs came in.
    â€œI’m Dr. Sullivan. Who’s the next of kin for Matt Holson?”
    â€œI am,” Barry said, jumping to his feet. “I’m Matt’s father.”
    The doctor shook Barry’s hand, nodding. He was only talking to Barry, but Mama held my hand tightly as we listened. “Matt is still unconscious. He has serious head lacerations, as well as torn ligaments in his shoulder. His arm is broken in several places. It’s too early to tell, but there may be neurological damage. He also has several broken ribs. One of the ribs penetrated his chest cavity and punctured his lung, causing bleeding and allowing free air into his chest. Breathing is very difficult for him right now. He’s also lost a lot of blood.”
    â€œIs he going to live? Can we see him?” Barry asked, his car keys still in his hand.
    â€œWe are doing everything possible,” said the doctor, “but it’s too soon to tell how this will turn out. The first forty-eight to seventy-two hours are veryimportant. We’ve taken Matt to surgery to evacuate the blood and air from his chest, but we don’t know the extent of the damage and will have to determine that when he regains consciousness.”
    Mama squeezed my hand. Were we going to be allowed to see Matt? How would he look? Was he going to die?
    I’d prayed for everyone in my family except Matt. I’d wished something bad would happen to him. Now something had.

3
D IANA
    C hristmas morning. Cold rain pattered against my windows. And I was suspended. I lay in my bed, thinking about other Christmases. One Christmas where Mom and Dad weren’t speaking to each other. Five or six Christmases with just Mom and me in our little house. Each time, we’d opened our few presents for each other and then gone to a movie in the afternoon. It was depressing.
    I wondered what Dad was doing today. Would he call me? I’d saved the gift he’d