The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted (19 page)

“Dad, I’m okay,” Aimee lied, hiding a grimace as she reached to grab his hand.

“Sweetheart, just keep still. Do what they tell you.” He walked alongside the stretcher while they carted Aimee towards the doors of the ER. Dad sighed in relief, then said, “Now that I’ve seen for myself you’re in one piece I can breathe again.” He forced a smile and squeezed her hand until they pushed her through the entrance.

Four hours, seven stitches and a half dozen X-rays later, Aimee emerged from the ER. Benny and Dylan were pacing at opposite sides of the waiting room when the nurse pushed Aimee through in a wheelchair on the way to the exit. Dylan flew over to her, and Benny was a half-step behind. Benny profusely tried to apologize, again, while Dylan bent over and gently kissed the un-bandaged part of Aimee's forehead. He squatted next to the chair, took her hand into his and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her palm, then held it against his pale cheek. He looked into Aimee's eyes and said, “Geez, Aimee, you scared the crap out of me.” He
continued softly, “Please, please don’t
ever
do it again.”

Benny stepped back behind Dylan. Suddenly the apologies died while he watched Dylan cradle Aimee. He tried one more time to say he was sorry. Dylan still had her hand in a death grip so she nodded with a finger from the other hand and attempted a smile. Aimee would have to figure out some way to assure him it wasn’t his fault, and other than the damage to her car and some minor injuries, she
really was fine - fine for someone who had survived a hurricane
and
a car wreck. Fit as a fiddle, one
slightly broken, that is.

“Benny told me you backed out and didn’t see him coming.”

Aimee nodded.

“Didn’t you see his
huge
truck?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know what happened. I guess I wasn’t paying attention when I backed out. Musta hit the accelerator instead of the brake.”

Dylan shook his head and looked at Aimee's dad who rolled his eyes. The nurse finished pushing Aimee towards the edge of the sidewalk, then put on the chair’s brakes. Her dad left Dylan to watch over her while he went to get his pickup. Benny apologized once more, now to both Aimee and Dylan, before excusing himself to head home. Aimee spotted his pickup as he walked away. Not a dent.

“Dylan, you aren’t mad at me, are you?”

“Friggin’ pissed,” he growled while fighting a grin from breaking. “Man, you really scared me though.” He paused a few seconds. “Aimee, did the shit Brandi pull upset you? I mean, well, were
you thinking of something
else
instead of looking when you backed out?”

The truth was impossible to tell him. No matter what, Aimee knew she couldn’t tell Dylan what actually happened. Not now. Not tomorrow. Probably not ever. She would have to get darn good at lying to him. “Yeah, I kinda guess I was thinking about Brandi’s note. I should have been watching though. I see Benny’s truck isn’t screwed up at all, is it?”

“Not even a scratch.”

“Figures. And mine?” She frowned and prepared herself for the worse.

“Benny said they had to tow your baby away. I think a funeral will be necessary.”

“Geez, Dad is gonna kill me,” Aimee groaned. “Not sure what I’ll do now to get around. Could jog places, I guess, once my rib mends.” Dylan started to chuckle, but stifled it when he saw that his laughing made Aimee whimper.

It felt like every inch of her body had been injured today. Somehow she had made it back minus the cloak of sand, but Aimee looked down at the cloth booties the admitting nurse made her put on. She arrived at the ER without shoes. Fortunately no one commented about her being shoeless. She flinched when she straightened up, but Dylan didn’t notice. The doc wrote her a prescription for pain. Aimee detested taking meds, but she wasn’t feeling so hot so maybe this one time she needed more than ibuprofen.

“Your dad seemed pretty cool about it. He didn’t act mad, just worried as hell when we were talking a few minutes ago. Anyway, don’t stress about it. I have a lot more spare time now so I’ll be glad to be your personal chauffeur,” he said with a grin.

Dad pulled up and the two of them gingerly hoisted Aimee into the passenger seat. Dylan reached in and kissed Aimee, then said he would follow them to the house. She hated for him to worry about her, but it was rather nice to have his attention after everything she had been through today.

Chels was waiting in the driveway by the time they pulled up. News traveled fast at East Medford
.

“AIMEE! O...MIII...GOD!”
she squealed and rushed over to help. Dylan was right behind
them, and out of his SUV helping Aimee before she could open the door. Chelsea grabbed Aimee's backpack from behind the seat and followed them inside. “What on earth happened, Aimee? Jana called me because she heard from Drew who heard from John that he saw Benny smash your car to smithereens. Geez, Aimee, he said you had to go to the hospital in an ambulance! Wow, you don’t look so good,” she commented finally breaking off long enough for Aimee to get in a response.

“I’m fine, really. A broken rib, a few stitches in my scalp, but a murdered Bug.”

“She had a little run in with Benny's monster truck, so her car didn’t fare so well,” Dylan added while he helped Aimee slowly move to the couch to lie down. Dad held Zonker back from jumping up to check Aimee over.

“I need to run to the pharmacy so if you will be here…” Dad began while he looked at Dylan.

“Yes, sir, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” Dylan flashed a gorgeous smile at Aimee, then sat down in the rocker next to the couch. Chels plopped down in the recliner next to Aimee and leaned forward to check out the stitches.

Chels scrunched her face. “Man, Aimee, you’re a mess!” she exclaimed.

“Thanks, Chels, for your lovely support. It could be worse.”

“So, how are you going to ski this weekend with James and Sacha?”

“Crap, I forgot all about this weekend,” Aimee moaned.

Dylan broke in, “Don’t worry, there will be other weekends we can go before the end of the season.” He was always so easy going, but Aimee could tell by his tone he was disappointed.

“Nope, we’re not canceling. I’ll just sit in the lodge and watch the three of you tumble down the slopes.”

“No way! You’re gonna be so sore for the next few weeks. You don’t need to do anything but stay right here and mend. I’m serious. I’ll be here to help out.”

“I bet your dad wouldn’t let you go anyway,” Chels said jumping into the argument.

“Don’t care. I’m not ruining anyone’s fun just because of a stupid broken rib and a couple lousy stitches. We’re still going. End of story.” Aimee pursed her lips at both of them.

Chelsea shook her head at Dylan, and then changed the subject. “Well, I can see you’re still kicking and acting your usual hard-headed self so I gotta get home. I’ll leave Dylan to take care of you. Need anything before I go?” she asked before she leaned over and took one more peek at the matted mess. She wrinkled her nose while Aimee wasn’t looking, but quickly smiled at her when Aimee glanced up.

“Nope. Thanks, Chels, for coming over. You can tell everyone you checked on me, and that I’m fine. Benny didn’t kill me, just my car. I’ll see you in school.”

As soon as Chelsea shut the door Dylan got on the couch and carefully laid Aimee's legs across his lap. He rubbed his hand across her cheek. The warmth of his hand felt comforting. As rough as she felt, it spurred a smile to her lips and a much needed boost to her bruised spirits. As Aimee looked at Dylan’s angelic face, it was the first time since her return that she thought about the young surfer who she failed miserably to save. An ache suddenly shot through her remembering how she dumped his broken, lifeless body into his truck. Aimee hoped the storm had spared him, and someone found his body. His family deserved to know what happened. At least she was able to provide what little comfort that might afford them. She would search later to see if she could find out what happened to Mr. Jack Reynolds of Brownsville, Texas.

Aimee moved and felt the brutal reminder of the hazards of travel. Dylan responded immediately to her wincing. “Are you hurting? Can I get you something? Man, I wish Mike would hurry up and get back with the med...”

“Dylan, I’m okay,” she interrupted. “It’s just a little hard to breathe without being reminded I have a broken rib.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Yep, keep still and let me look at your beautiful face. It keeps my mind off the pain.”

Dylan smiled and stared deep into her eyes. She tried to think about nothing but him, and forget her broken rib…her wrecked Bug…and Jack, the dead surfer. After a couple minutes she heard Dad pulling into the driveway. Dylan eased out from under her legs to get some water. Her dad gave her a couple giant white pills and quickly she felt a little woozy. The pain finally began to shrink as the medication seeped through her veins. Her breathing steadied, then slowed, and the last thing Aimee remembered was Dylan rhythmically rubbing her feet with the sound of the late night news buzzing in the background.

Chapter 10 The Message

The night ticked away with nothing but nothing, a dreamless void until right before the alarm
was to go off. Jack Reynolds came to Aimee's bedside and woke her up. He touched her cheek with a cold hand. Her eyes flew open, and he immediately covered her mouth with his hand. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t move. Terror seized her!

But his eyes were peaceful, full of life, not death, and Aimee suddenly felt safe with her ghostly intruder. The smell of his rotting flesh burned her nostrils and she quit breathing through her nose so she wouldn’t show disgust at his foulness. He slowly slid his hand off her mouth, and she stifled her fear. He stared into her eyes. Finally his lips moved, and in a whisper he said, “Thank you. You tried. You did what you could.”

“But I failed…” moaned Aimee.

“No, you didn’t fail,” he interrupted. “You did what you could.
You
can’t always change by
yourself what has been destined to happen. Seek others to help you.”

Aimee looked at him perplexed, but before she could ask what he meant by
seek others
he
vanished into the darkness of the room. She turned sharply to see where he went, and an excruciating pain stabbed her side. This time she reared straight up and shrieked. Dad came out of the chair next to couch like he had been hit by lightning.

“Aimee, what’s wrong?!” he yelled while reaching for Aimee in the darkness.

“I’m okay, I’m okay…just my side…oh, geez, my side…” she replied doubled over in pain.

Dad flipped on the light, and Aimee could see that she had fallen asleep on the couch and he had stretched out in the recliner next to her apparently to keep guard. Dylan must have left late after she had drifted off into a drug-induced slumber.

“Sweetheart, you’re covered in sweat. Here, let me get you a towel, and another pill for the pain.”

Sweat speckled her face, but a chill ran through her body as she suddenly envisioned her dreamlike visitor. The smell of his atrocious decaying flesh still lingered in Aimee's nostrils, and his words - seek others to help you - repeated again and again in her brain like a recorded message.

“No, Dad, I don’t want any more dope. I need to go to school in a couple hours. If I take anything now I won’t be able to function.”

“Go to school? Are you
CRAZY
?!” screeched Dad.

“Yeah, go to school. I’m not going to let a couple minor injuries keep me at home.” Aimee scooted her legs out from around Zonker’s warm body. Her bladder reminded her she hadn’t been to the bathroom in a while. Her dad instantly encircled her waist with his arm to help her. “OUCH…OUch…Ouch …ouch,” Aimee muttered through gritted teeth. She straightened up and shuffled slowly down the hall. It actually felt good to be up and moving.

After examining herself in the mirror, Aimee decided she needed more than a toilet break. Her hair was still caked with dried blood around the scalp, and her torso had dark bruising spread across it in various shades of purple and blue. A long, hot shower and some fresh clothes would help bring some strength back to her sore muscles. Twenty minutes later the hot water ran out and Aimee gingerly dried and swathed herself in loose sweats. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten in almost a day so she headed to the kitchen following the scent of fresh coffee and Dad’s famous blueberry pancakes. Aimee sat down slowly and Dad set a plate of piping hot pancakes and a cup of coffee in front of her. He dropped into his chair. While stirring the cream into his cup of coffee, he watched Aimee eat.

“What are we gonna do about your car?” he finally asked after he slurped down a mouthful of steamy brew.

“Don’t know. We only have liability, right?” she asked, then took a bite of the syrupy treat.

“Yep.”

“Well, it was my fault, so I’ll pay to have it fixed, unless it’s beyond repair.” Aimee looked at his face trying to determine if he had stored some latent anger.

After a long moment, and a few more sips of his coffee, he finally said, “Well, it’s definitely beyond repair. I was thinking that you’re graduating in a couple months, and going off to Eugene in the fall. I know how much you love that Bug, but I want to get you a newer, and bigger, car for your graduation.”

He had a grin spread from ear to ear, and Aimee jumped up out of her chair momentarily forgetting her injuries. She stifled a scream, then wrapped her arms around Dad’s neck and started to cry tears of joy and pain.

“Thank you, Dad. You’re the best!”

“You’re welcome. I love you, too. Now sit down and finish your breakfast before it gets cold.”

After getting his royal treatment of breakfast
and
washing the dishes, Aimee thanked her dad
and crept off to her room to get ready for school. She opened the blinds and looked out to see what the weather held for the day. The clouds had rose colored hues spread against multiple shades of gray. The sun hung low in the horizon, and was trying to peek out from behind one of the wispy puffs blanketing
the eastern sky. Aimee watched while God colored the sky with his magical paintbrush.
Totally awesome day to be alive
, she thought, her mind suddenly drifting back to the journey from the previous
day.