The Sweetness of Salt (21 page)

chapter

51

Once we had the flashlight, it took Jimmy less than ten seconds to assess the situation Sophie was in, grab Aiden’s cell phone, and call the fire department for help. They arrived minutes later, springing into action as Jimmy, Aiden, and I stood by. One of them added another blanket to the growing pile on top of Sophie, but her lips still trembled violently. A wide, glaring beam of light had been directed down from the top of the truck positioned at the edge of the bridge. Under this light, two firemen were busy tethering a rope to the smaller of the two boulders, while the other two attended to Sophie. An ambulance screamed its arrival, sidling in next to the fire truck with a screech of brakes. Two attendants jumped out and joined the firemen in the gorge. One of them began taking Sophie’s vital signs while the other covered her with heated blankets. Above us, the red siren lights flashed back and forth, in and out, in a dizzying display of urgency.

I listened with one ear as an attendant began barking out Sophie’s statistics. “Heart rate is forty! BP is eighty over sixty and we got a temp of ninety-one! Any chance you guys can hurry up with that rock? This girl is in serious hypothermic shock.”

I turned to Jimmy, my eyes wide with panic.

“Let them work,” he said steadily.

I turned back, straining to see Sophie behind the swirl of moving bodies. My whole body began to shiver again, weakened from the strain of the last few weeks, terrified at the thought of losing Sophie. Jimmy took off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders while Aiden patted me gently on the back. The three of us stood very close to one another for the next thirty-seven minutes, until at last, with a roar from the firemen, the earth released its hold and, with one enormous, groaning, sucking movement, set the rock free.

We followed the ambulance to the Rutland Regional Medical Center, which was the closest hospital. The twenty-minute drive seemed interminable. I sat close to the window on the passenger side of Jimmy’s pickup truck, an ancient, rumbling vehicle that rattled whenever we hit a bump, and prayed that we would make it to the hospital without breaking down. The inside of the truck smelled like pipe tobacco and home fries. A thin coating of dust covered the dashboard and the floor mats were worn through with holes. We probably would’ve been better off taking the quad.

We drove for a while in silence, following the deep glare of red ambulance lights as they cut through the fading night ahead of us. To the right, the sky was turning the faintest shade of pink, like morning glories wakening. Jimmy drove with just the inside of his right wrist resting on top of the steering wheel; next to him, Aiden sat quietly. He had taken his hat off and was rubbing the edge of his hairline with his fingers.

“She’ll be okay,” Jimmy said finally, as we passed a sign that said
RUTLAND—2 MILES.

I turned to look at him. “You really think so? Even after everything that guy back there said about hypothermia?”

He nodded. “They got her in time. She’s a little broken up is all. They’ll fix her.”

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks suddenly, as if Jimmy had turned on a faucet with his words.

Next to me, Aiden reached his arm across my shoulders and squeezed.

The emergency waiting room was filled to capacity. I was surprised until I remembered that it was Saturday morning. I’d heard somewhere that Friday and Saturday nights were the busiest in every emergency room all over the country. Why should Vermont be any exception?

Blue-cushioned chairs, shoved together to make one long couch, were pressed up against one side of the room, while the middle was taken up by three separate rows of backless seats. Nearly every seat was occupied, mostly by sleeping people, their coats bunched up in makeshift pillows, heads bent at unnatural angles. Two girls, who looked to be my age, were curled up in fetal positions at the feet of an older couple. With their hair splayed out behind them and their faces slack with sleep, they could have been at a slumber party, not in an emergency waiting room. Another woman, dressed in a pale green suit, nude pantyhose, and black heels, was slouched in a chair at the very end of the wall. Her hand covered her face, but her shoulders shook with sobs. The cuffs of her suit sleeves were covered with blood.

“I’m going to go find some coffee,” Aiden said, nodding at me. “You want some?”

I shook my head.

“Dad?” he asked.

Jimmy nodded. “Cream only.”

“Back in a few,” Aiden said.

Jimmy pointed to a small space in the middle row between two sleeping people. I followed as he settled himself down, crossed his legs at the ankle, and stared at the TV. It was 5:20 a.m. An early morning show blared out a series of morbid headlines. Inflation was up, the stock market was down. The whole world as we knew it was burning, and none of it mattered because the only thing that was important was in the next room, a wall away.

“You knew about Goober?” I heard myself say. “With the custody and everything?”

Jimmy nodded. He did not take his eyes off the television.

“Why?” I asked softly. “Why would she do something like that?”

“She didn’t tell me.” Jimmy shrugged lightly. “And I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?”

“Some things aren’t ours to ask.”

I stared down at my feet.

“I don’t think she’ll go through with it, though,” Jimmy said.

“You don’t?”

Jimmy shook his head. “They haven’t signed the papers yet. I think this is a temporary thing while she’s been trying to figure some other things out.”

My heart pounded. I’d already leapt to the conclusion that it was a done deal. That I’d only get to see Goober on one of Sophie’s weekends. Which would probably be close to never. “Oh God, I hope so.”

On the television, a woman was crying. Her hair stuck up straight off her head and she was dressed in a pink housecoat. Behind her, the scene was a slate of water, punctuated with small, bobbing houses.

“God,” I said, looking away. “There’s just so much…awfulness in the world. Nobody gets a break, do they?”

“Nope.” Jimmy stared straight ahead, watching the woman as she continued to wail.

We both stared at the television screen as the camera panned to another view of destruction. The whole side of a house was gone, gutted like a fish. Inside, a large family portrait still hung on one of the remaining walls, and a living room lamp was upright in a corner. “People get through,” Jimmy said. “You don’t got much choice, really. You either get through or you get stuck. That’s about it.”

I looked over at him for a moment. Little white hairs stuck out from inside his ears, and the lobes were wide and fleshy. “Jimmy?”

“Huh?”

“What were you doing in church that day? With the rocks, I mean?”

He squinted, as if there was a glare on the TV. Then he said, “I put them out in front of the Blessed Virgin. It’s just a thing I do.”

“What’s it mean?”

He paused. “Did Aiden tell you about his mother?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “It’s for her. Mostly. She liked them. Rocks and things. Whenever I see one, I pick it up. Usually, I make things out of them. It keeps me busy, now that I’m retired. But sometimes when I feel the need, I go into the church and sit down and try to listen for her.”

“For your wife?” I asked softly.

He shook his head. “For the Blessed Virgin.” He turned his head finally, and looked at me. “Don’t worry, I’m not some crazy old guy who hears voices.” I smiled. “But sometimes, when I wait, she comes. She does. I can feel her. And when that happens, I know Theresa is close by too. And that’s when I leave the stones.” He shrugged. “They’re sort of a thank you, I guess. And a hello too.”

I wasn’t sure if I understood.

But I knew that it was true.

I knew that it was good.

I slipped my hand inside his big rough one, and left it there.

chapter

52

Sophie’s injuries included a fractured femur, a shattered ankle, and extreme hypothermia. When a nurse finally came to retrieve us hours later, Sophie had already been moved to a room upstairs. Her leg, which had been set and cast, was propped up in a sling, and two IVs were dripping warm liquid into her arms. Someone thankfully had cleaned the mud out of her hair and wiped her face so she looked almost normal, even healthy, when we finally got a chance to see her.

I went over to her bed. Jimmy and Aiden hung back by the doorway.

“Sophie,” I whispered, hugging her tightly. She smelled like antiseptic. Her fingernails still had mud under them, and there was a tiny cut above her left eye. I straightened back up and turned around, beckoning the two men in, but Jimmy shook his head.

“Just wanted to lay eyes on you,” he said to Sophie, touching the brim of his cap. “You two take some time alone. We’ll be back in a while.”

Sophie gave him a grateful look and then blew him a kiss.

Aiden gave me a little nod and then disappeared down the hall.

I started to take a step back, when Sophie reached out suddenly with two fingers and pulled on the belt loop of my jeans. “Wait,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I want to tell you.” She closed her eyes. “About Maggie.”

I swallowed with enormous difficulty. “You don’t have to. It’s okay, Sophie. You don’t have to anymore.”

She shook her head, lolling it heavily from side to side. “Just listen, okay?”

I stared at her, remembering Lloyd’s words:
“You don’t go easy on someone when they’re just startin’ out. You go easy on someone when they’ve got blisters on top of blisters and they’re about ready to throw a hammer at someone.”

Sophie looked back at me. “If I don’t tell you now, I’ll never do it. Okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“It was a Saturday,” Sophie began. “Mom was away for the weekend. I don’t remember where she was. Maybe at Gram’s. Anyway, she left us both with Dad.” She draped the crook of her arm over her eyes. Beneath it, her mouth spread into a smile. “We had such a great day, the three of us. It was really warm out. Dad took us to the park and then to Hillside Farms for ice cream. Then later, after Maggie’s nap, we went miniature golfing. On the way home, he stopped at the supermarket because he wanted to get stuff to grill hamburgers and hot dogs for dinner. Maggie loved hot dogs. He told us to wait in the car while he ran in. We were both practically jumping out of our skins from all the excitement and fun we’d had—with even more to come.”

Sophie removed her arm from her eyes. “Except that as Dad came back out of the store, I saw the blue cans sticking out of the top of the bag. And suddenly, you know, it was like all the air went out of a balloon or something. I knew what was coming.”

She was staring straight above her now, past my face, looking back.

“Dad went upstairs and started a bath for us. He put in some strawberry-scented bubbles that Maggie loved and helped us undress and put us both in. Maggie was splashing around and laughing, but I remember just staring at the blue tiles on the wall.”

Sophie began shaking then. At first I thought she was having a seizure, until I realized it was just from the memory. She struggled to restrain herself.

“Stop,” I said. “You can tell me the rest later. I’m going to go get a nurse.”

She clutched me around the wrist with freezing fingers. “Not saying anything to you all these years was my first lie,” she whispered fiercely. “And I haven’t stopped since. Whenever Mom or Dad—or anyone else—ever asked me what was wrong, I told them ‘nothing.’ Everything was always fine.” Her face contorted. “If I had just told them then, right at that moment, maybe none of this would have turned out this way.”

“
This is so much easier, isn’t it?
”

“
What is?
”

“
Just being straight with each other. Think of all the time we’ve wasted doing everything except this
.”

“I’ve done it too,” I whispered, stroking Sophie’s cheek with the tip of my finger. “It’s not just you, Sophie. We all do it.”

She winced. “But not at the expense of someone else.” She struggled to get her breath. I slid myself alongside her in the bed, wrapping my arms gently around her shoulders and drawing her toward me. She rested her cheek against my collarbone.

“He said he was going to go downstairs to start the grill,” Sophie started again. “Five minutes. That was all.” Her eyebrows narrowed. “But I knew where he was going. And all of a sudden, thinking about it, I got really, really pissed. Boiling mad. Red mad.” She paused. “All I could think about was getting rid of those blue cans. So I got out of the tub.”

“You left Maggie?” I asked faintly.

Sophie nodded. “I told her I’d be right back. I told her to sit down and be very quiet. And then I left. I went downstairs. Dad was outside in the backyard, already drinking out of one of the blue cans. He had one of Mom’s aprons on, and he was whistling. I could smell the charcoal. And then real quick, before he came in, I opened the fridge and grabbed the stack of cans. I had one under one arm and was just reaching for the other when I noticed something different.”

“What?” I asked.

“They were blue, but they didn’t have the white stripe on the side like his beer usually did.”

Her eyes roved the ceiling above her, searching, searching.

“I remember there was a red stripe on the side, and little black letters that spelled out C-O-L-A.” She blinked. “I was so confused that I didn’t even hear Dad come in. He gave me this funny look and asked me what I was doing. I couldn’t even answer. I put the cans back in the refrigerator and told him Maggie wanted a drink.

“‘Where is Maggie?’ he asked me.

“When I told him she was in the tub, he said, ‘By herself?’ and then he rushed off.

“I followed him up the steps. I could hear water running for some reason. And then I heard this yell…”

Sophie closed her eyes. I had not realized how tightly clenched she had been until she released herself suddenly against me. “She’d turned the water back on, maybe accidentally, maybe to make it higher, and she’d gone under. The doctors said later that if she hadn’t had asthma, she might have lived.”

An anguished sound came out of her mouth suddenly, and she brought her fist up and bit down on it hard. Her eyes were wide, wild with fear and memory. I knew what she was feeling now was more painful than any of her injuries.

I bent my head over hers and wept.