Page 5 of Smuggler’s Cove (Twin Lights #1)
“He’s unconscious. From what we can tell, he was pitched from his seat, smashed into the windshield, and then got thrown from the car after it hit the concrete. He’s still unconscious. Lucky to be alive.”
Horrifying images raced through her mind. What if he is incapacitated indefinitely? Would she, could she care for him?
“Which hospital is he in?” she asked.
“St. Joseph’s in Paterson,” the officer replied.
“I’m in Barnegat. I don’t know how I am going to get up there.” She looked at Betty.
“I’ll give you the phone number of the hospital. You can try to call them in a few hours,” the officer said. “Maybe there will be a change in his condition.”
Rita’s hands trembled as she scratched out the numbers. Again, her mind was racing. How would she get there? What about the children? She thanked the officer and ended the call.
“What happened?” Betty gasped.
“J.T. was in an accident. He was drunk and ran off the road. Into some kind of concrete thing.”
“How is he?”
“Unconscious,” Rita replied. “Betty, I don’t know what to do.” She began to weep.
“If he’s unconscious, there is nothing you can do.” Betty looked out the kitchen window.
Rita dried her eyes. “This might put the kids in a tizzy. They’re just beginning to get used to being in the country.”
Betty put a kettle on the stove. “Come. Sit down. Let’s talk this through.”
Betty convinced Rita to wait a few hours. Then she could call the hospital and see what the prognosis was.
“They’re going to think I am a terrible wife if I don’t go right away,” Rita said, sniffling.
Betty let out a raspberry. “You are worried what total strangers will think of you when they don’t even know what you’ve been through?” The kettle began to whistle. Betty began to fix tea.
“I often wondered why the Brits make tea during a crisis,” Rita mused.
“Gives them something to do.” Betty chuckled. “Come on, sis. This is clearly a sign from above. Imagine if you were home? The police coming to your door in the middle of the night? You missed out on a ruckus.”
“What am I going to tell Jackson? And Kirby?” Rita asked, as she watched her son enjoy the sunshine.
“Don’t tell them anything until you have some real information.” Betty brought the teacups to the table. “If you want, I will drive you to Paterson.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Rita protested.
“You didn’t ask me. I am offering. Now drink your tea.”
Even before the news of the accident, Rita had no plan of action.
She was using the time as a vacation from reality.
She hoped and prayed an idea or a solution would come to her.
Going back to that environment was not an option.
Even if the man was unconscious. It was no atmosphere to raise children.
Such a quandary. If her husband survived but was in a vegetative state, would that be better than if he were in a raging alcoholic state?
Once again, she thought of the children.
It would be horrible for them in either case.
George came in for lunch. “Why the long faces, ladies?”
Betty explained the situation to him.
“We can drive you up there, Rita. If that’s what you want to do.” He was as confounded as Rita.
“I say we wait.” Betty folded her arms. She was always the more willful of the two sisters.
Jackson bounced into the kitchen with Kirby in tow. “Hey, Uncle George.”
“Hey yourself, kiddo.” Uncle George tussled Jackson’s hair.
“Ready for some lunch?” Betty asked, before any further conversation about the accident occurred.
“Grilled cheese, please?” George asked.
“With bacon.” Betty knew it was George’s favorite. “What about you, Jackson? Kirby?”
Jackson said, “Yes, please.” Kirby bobbed his head up and down enthusiastically.
“Yes, please,” he parroted his brother. Jackson had heard them whispering when he walked into the kitchen.
He wondered what was going on. He looked at his mother.
He could tell she had been crying. The wadded-up tissue in her clenched fist was a big hint.
But the quietness. There was no conversation, unlike all the other meals over the past two and a half days.
He wondered if he had done something wrong.
But if he had, would Aunt Betty offer him bacon?
Jackson’s thoughts were interrupted by the ringing on the telephone. Everyone jumped. Rita began to shake. George got up and picked up the receiver.
“Hel-lo,” George said in a pleasant tone. He looked over at Rita. “One moment.” He put his hand over the mouthpiece and then looked toward Jackson and Kirby.
Rita just didn’t bother shooing them out of earshot. The kids were going to find out eventually. She scraped the chair away from the table and walked over to where George was holding the phone.
Rita took the receiver from him. “Hello. This is Mrs. Taylor.” She listened. “I see. Yes. Yes, that will be fine.” She listened again. “Thank you.” She turned to the curious eyes that were carefully watching her. “No change, but they are moving him to a special unit.”
“Who’s moving, mother?” Jackson asked.
Rita crouched in front of her son. “It’s Daddy. He was in an accident. He’s in the hospital.”
“Oh.” Jackson’s response was succinct.
Kirby wanted to know what an “axel-dent” was.
Rita looked at Betty and George. Should she tell them more?
“It’s called an accident,” she corrected him. “It’s when someone gets hurt.”
“Daddy is hurt?” Kirby asked.
“Yes. They think he might be in the hospital for a while. They are going to call again later.” Rita spoke slowly, carefully, looking for any signs of distress from her sons.
“Okay,” Jackson replied, and finished his grilled cheese and bacon sandwich. He couldn’t remember when he ever tasted something so delicious. Kirby pulled the cheese from the sandwich in ignorant bliss. After lunch, they went back outside to play while the adults pondered what might happen next.
By dinnertime, there was still no news as they sat down for meatloaf and mashed potatoes.
Once they finished dinner and brought their plates to the sink, Rita asked if the children could watch a little television as a diversion.
A favorite at the time was The Jackie Gleason Show with musical and comedy skits.
The kids were enthralled by the magic of television and didn’t seem to care what was on.
Even though they had a small TV at home, they were rarely allowed to watch it.
After an hour of entertainment and distraction, Jackson and Kirby were tucked in their beds, with Kirby on the lower part of the trundle. George, Rita, and Betty sat in the living room when the phone stirred everyone’s nerves again. George answered. He nodded to Rita. “Yes, one moment, please.”
Rita put the phone to her ear, not knowing what news she was hoping to hear.
“This is Mrs. Taylor.” She listened. This time, whatever she was being told took a little longer.
“Yes, I understand. Just give me a moment.” She put her hand over the receiver.
“They said I should go up there. Paperwork, and such.”
George immediately offered to drive her. “We can leave first thing in the morning. Should take about two hours.”
Rita returned her attention to the caller.
“Yes, I can be there by eleven.” She reached for the pad and pencil that were sitting on the table where the phone was perched.
She began to write something down. “Yes. Thank you.” She hung up and read the address to George and Betty.
“They’re taking him to the VA hospital tomorrow afternoon, but I have to bring his discharge papers before they can transfer him. ”
“Did they give you any indication of his condition? Has anything changed?” Betty asked.
Rita was staring off into the distance. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“How is he doing?”
“Not well. That’s why they are transferring him. They don’t have the capabilities for someone who is in a coma.”
“A coma?” Betty let out a long puff of air.
“Well, that’s what the doctor alluded to. He needs to be accurately diagnosed.” Tears dripped down her face. “I don’t know if I can handle any of this.”
“I have an idea. Why don’t you let Jackson and Kirby stay here until you can sort things out? You can’t be toting two little boys around.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Rita said.
“May I remind you again? You didn’t ask. I offered.”
“I think I should bring Jackson with me. He’ll want to see his father.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” George cut in. “He didn’t seem too upset by the news.”
Rita hung her head. “There’s been too much drama in our lives. Jackson’s father can be extremely aggressive.”
“Has he ever struck the children? Or you?” Betty asked in dread.
“No. No. That’s why I had to leave. It was just a matter of time.” Rita sat down at the kitchen table. “I figured if I left and took the children, he’d either decide to be less of a bully, or divorce me. But things could not stay the way they were.”
George sat across from his sister-in-law.
“People don’t really change. You didn’t know a whole lot about him before you married him.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to make you feel bad.
A lot of people did the same thing. If you weren’t married before the war, then time was a-wastin’, and you had to beat feet and get to it.
” He reached over to Betty and patted her hand.
“We were lucky. We grew up together. All three of us, but Betty was the fortunate one, and she got to marry me. ” He chuckled.
“You’re the lucky one, buster.” Betty gave him an elbow.
Rita took a deep breath. “This is what I am going to do: George, you will drive me and Jackson to the hospital. Kirby will stay here with Betty. George, I don’t know what condition our car is in.
Would you mind phoning the police station for me?
If it’s okay to be on the road, I’ll use it for transportation. ”