Sacred Hart (3 page)

“Thank you,” the nurse called out to me. I nodded at her and headed back up the drive to Red’s — to my cabin, to my safety. This whole accident, this little girl, the paramedics, two of which were now helping the
“Good Samaritan”,
drained me minute by minute.

I didn’t look back. I just kept one foot in front of the other long enough to make it back to my place. The door shut behind me, and I fell to my knees with the blood of the man still on my hands. The cold surface of the floor seeped through me as I yelled at the top of my lungs. My eyes were wide open, taking in each inch of the nothingness that I owned. My throat burned from the volume of it, and the hot tears stained my cheeks.

When would I stop seeing ghosts that weren’t there?

When would I stop missing every moment that never got to happen?

When would I forgive Sarah… or better yet… myself?

Rust-tinted water swirled down the drain as I washed away the blood from my shaking fingers. The responsibility of his death still lingered. Had I caused him more pain by trying to save him? Should I have left him to die in the car? Tears fell down my cheeks as the hot water started to finally lose its warmth. Gosh, how long had I been in here? I turned the shower off, pulled the comic book themed plastic shower curtain to the side, and stepped out of the tub. I grabbed my towel and roughly dried my hair, then my body, trying to remove every last bit of guilt that I could. The terry cloth was too soft; I wanted to feel the burn of the fabric against my skin. I hadn’t saved him. He wouldn’t be home tonight with his wife. Mr. Bartley wouldn’t get to see his daughter graduate from Oakville School. My head fell forward as the tears came in a rush.

I let the pain in this time. I deserved it. That paramedic was right; I shouldn’t have moved him. My personal relationship with the patient, one of my neighbors, clouded my judgment. It was stupid to play the
“what if”
game, though. It wouldn’t bring him back, and no matter what, I did what I thought was best. Mr. Bartley died in my arms, he died with familiar eyes on his. I was just glad I wasn’t the one who’d had to tell his family. Officer Reynolds had, and I didn’t envy him that.

I dressed quickly in jeans and a crème colored sweater. The dense fabric did little to warm me. My house was old and the floor board heaters, if I was being honest, were crap. The wood burning stove helped to some extent, but my bedroom faced north; it was always the coldest. I French braided my hair and sat on the edge of the bed. The pale blue and green quilt my mother had made me was threadbare, but I would never part with it. It could be in rags and I’d still sleep with it. I tried not to think of my parents. I tried not to think about Mr. Bartley to no avail. Technically, I should’ve been at work, it was where I’d been headed this morning. Instead, like any other day, I dropped Beth off at Cornelia’s place, but called in sick and came home. The charge nurse was understanding. I worked at All Saints Hospital just outside of town. It was the only trauma hospital for miles. Trauma was my specialty, in work and out. I exhaled an exasperated puff of air.

“Simmer down with the dramatics, Maggie. Geez.” I watched myself in the mirror and pretended to smile, first with little teeth, then a small smirk, and finally, a giant cheesy grin. I laughed. This was mine and my little girl’s favorite game.
“Goofy smiles in the mirror always helps a sad heart.”
It’s what my mother used to say to me. These were the little things I’d kept with me. Even now after my parents’ death, I could still find the real smile in the mirror… sometimes.

I stood abruptly and grabbed my keys off the dresser, nodding at my reflection. I’d pick Beth up early; maybe we could go get some lunch, try to make this crap day better. I grabbed my jacket and slipped my arms through the sleeves. The rain had stopped, but the air was icy. My breath created misty puffs as I walked to my car. The dented Volkswagen Passat sat in the driveway with a dusting of ice along its surface. I’d had this car since I graduated nursing school ten years ago. I climbed in, started the engine, and turned the heat on high blast. The music played effortlessly through the speakers. The slight warm twang of the guitars, the low tone of the piano, it was sad music, but it soaked through all my defenses and made me happy. Music was probably the only thing, besides Beth, that got me through the rough patches. Eventually, my window defrosted enough, three songs later to be exact. I was blissed out as I turned up the stereo and backed out of my driveway.

“Thanks again, Cornelia,” I said as I waved over my shoulder.

“No problem, anytime. Let me know if you get Mr. Bartley’s funeral off from work. If not, I can find someone to watch Beth.” She smiled at me as I turned to look back at her. Her hair was salt and pepper and up in a bun today. She was so tall and elegant. I imagined she was quite the sight when she was younger.

“That would be great.” My lips spread in a return smile.

“Bye, Mrs. Samson.” Beth waved rapidly as she chattered her teeth.

“Get in the car, Honey Bee.” I shook my head with a grin.

Beth’s hair was too long. It hung just below her waist, all one length in straw colored waves. She had my blonde but looked just like Adam. I wished she could’ve looked more like me; looking at her was like staring at the past, and it hurt sometimes. Adam was that hot doctor every young nurse wanted to work with. He was smart, tall, dark, and had just enough sex appeal to make him cocky. His brown eyes drank you in, making you think you were his. I’d worked with him back when I lived in Utah. We had a drunken one-night stand, and I ended up pregnant.

He didn’t want anything to do with me after that. It was too hard to work with him. He ignored me, made me feel ashamed of what we’d done like I was a burden. I never thought I’d come back to Oakville because when I’d left to go to nursing school, I’d hoped to make a go of it down south. After Adam, my first mark of shame, I had decided to move back home. I’d packed my bags and, ever since, I’d tried not to look back. On occasion, when I looked at Beth, I would see his beauty, and I began to want things that would never exist, at least not for me.

I waved one last time at Cornelia as I sat in the driver seat. “You buckled in?”

“Yes. Are we going to have lunch? How come you got me early? Can we get ice cream?” She fired each question with an excited burst.

“Beth, it’s freezing. How can you even think of ice cream?” I pretended to shiver and made a burr noise with my lips.

She giggled. “It was half-day today.”

“I know.” I smiled at her in the rearview mirror.

“I’m starving,” she whined, and I laughed. She could go from happy, to sad, to indignant in zero-point-five seconds.

“Me, too. Do you want homemade mac and cheese?”

“Mom, it’s not homemade if it comes from that blue box.” She gave me a disgusted look.

“Hey now, I put the butter and milk in it.” I giggled as she shook her head, and brought my eyes back to the road. “How are you almost seven?” Time, it moved too fast.

“Because, it’s almost my birthday.”

“It is?” I asked with heavy sarcasm. She inherited my hair and my wit; I was proud.

“Let’s eat there.” She pointed. “We never have, Mom.”

My eyes landed on Red’s and my stomach turned. I hadn’t realized we were this close to the scene of the accident. On my way to get her, I’d taken the backroads in an attempt to avoid it, but Beth was so good at distraction, I hadn’t gone the way I wanted.

“Please, Mom. I bet they have hot cocoa,” she bargained. I looked back at her in my rearview again, and she even had her bottom lip jutted out. I rolled my eyes.

I slowed the car and made sure no one was headed in either direction before I did a U-turn. I kind of wanted to thank that paramedic. Well, the “
used to be”
paramedic. Even though he was kind of a jerk, he was just trying to help, and things can get heated during a crisis. The gravel was wet, and my car skidded a bit as I pulled in. The place appeared busy, and I noticed a couple police cars as well.

“Come on, Honey Bee. Let’s get burgers and fries to go?” I didn’t want to stay. I didn’t want to eat while staring at the place my friend died this morning.

“Awe, Mom, I want hot chocolate.” Her frown was almost comical.

“Beth, I’m sure they have to-go cups.” I laced my fingers with hers as we headed inside.

“Good.” She smiled and started to hum the theme to
Spider-Man
. My little girl was obsessed with superheroes.

The smell of bacon hit me like a brick wall as the diner door swung open. Voices mumbled and buzzed as we walked in. The place was quaint and dingy, and I instantly loved it. I’d never once been in Red’s, not even as a child that I could remember. It looked like such a sad place, and I’d never really understood the appeal of small towns, greasy spoons, and country music… not until I moved back. The big city ate me up and spat me out, and I needed places like Red’s in my life to remind me what the world offered in its small dark corners.

The woman behind the counter was shouting orders through a swinging door and an older man, whom I recognized for some weird reason, was chatting with the two police officers that were seated at the breakfast bar. His smile was genuine, with deep wrinkles, and I found myself smiling as I watched him talk with animation. The music on the jukebox played loudly, and I almost reconsidered getting take out for a corner booth instead. The man stopped mid-sentence and smiled at me, then at Beth.

“Well, if it isn’t little Maggie Wright. I used to play cards with your dad.” His voice was almost as full as his grin.

I smiled, and my eyebrows pulled together. “It is. You knew my father?”

“I know everyone.” He laughed loudly, and the officers sitting at the bar followed suit. I recognized one of the officers. Tate Evans and I went to high school together, and in a town this small, you knew everyone, well, at least, I thought I did.

“Hey there, Maggie.” Tate gave me a shy smile and nodded his head.

“Hey, Tate.” Beth was incessantly pulling on my sweater. “What, little girl?” My eyes were wide as I looked down at the impatient child.

“Can we get hot chocolate?”

Oh my gosh.
“Yes, I said—”

“We have the best in town.” The man smirked down at Beth, and she giggled.

“Who are you?” she asked with attitude.

I was just about to admonish her, but he interrupted again. “My name is Tony Potts, and I own this place. What can I get for you, little miss?”

“My mom calls me Honey Bee.”

“Does she now?” He placed his elbows on the counter surface and leaned closer to where we were standing. “What can I get for you, Honey Bee?”

“I’d like a cheeseburger, cheese only, fries…” She brought her pointer finger to her lips and started tapping it against her mouth making it next to impossible to suppress my bubbling laughter. “Mmm, and I’d like hot cocoa, to-go, with ten marshmallows.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Ten? Are you sure?”

She nodded and the entire breakfast bar of men started laughing heartily. “She’s a pistol, that one.” Tony smacked the countertop in jest with the palm of his hand.

“Don’t I know it.” I giggled as Beth’s lips spread into a large cheesy grin. My mom was always right. The cheesiest grins made everything better. “I’ll have the same as her, please.”