Unprotected (35 page)

“This investigation is so tarnished that there’s no way we can get these charges to stick,” Barb said angrily. “You need to get those statements just to cover our asses.”

Amanda followed Jake out of Barb’s office.

“Jake …”

He whipped around at her, his eyes wide. He rubbed his face with his hands. “Good god, Amanda, how could you do this?”

“I don’t know, Jake. I did the best I could … They came to me …” Her words got stuck in her throat. “I didn’t mean …”

“Just go get those statements.” He didn’t meet her eyes and pounded back into his office.

Amanda felt her insides slide as she made her way to the door, Julie holding her salad out to her and then pulling it back when she saw Amanda’s face. Outside the snow was falling almost horizontally as sharp, icy flakes pelted her face. The few cars on the road were skidding and fishtailing, and a plow groaned faintly in the distance. Sobs finally escaped as she fought her way to her car. Inside she turned on the heat and waited for the windshield wipers to clear the snow. She flashed back to the night she left Jake’s parents’ home when she ran to her car in the middle of the night. The urge to run away was back, as strong as ever.

Amanda pushed the thought away and tried to think. Once she got the recordings she would make Jake listen to the girls himself. They couldn’t lose sight of what the girls said, because it justified what she did. She squirmed as she wondered why she didn’t just tell them the interview was at her house. It looked guilty, unprofessional and embarrassing. The only fix at this point was those recordings. Ignoring the tremor in her hands, she finally pulled out of her parking spot and headed for home.

* * *

With the wind, the pelting snow, and the ice on the roads, Amanda barely drove ten miles per hour on the city streets. She jumped when a police car with lights and sirens flashing passed her, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. She had advanced another block when a second police car passed, followed by a fire truck. She turned onto her street. Squinting, Amanda could see that they all seemed to stop about three blocks ahead, very near her home.

Her gut knew first, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Thick black smoke cut through the blowing snow to create the appearance of a gray tornado. Another fire truck, an ambulance. Sirens and howling wind. Black soot and burning embers floating past her car.

Amanda had to stop almost a block away, as the emergency vehicles took up the road. It was impossible and surreal. Her home was on fire. Images of her broken lock, her slashed tires, and footprints on her outside landing flashed through her head, and the truth hit her like a truck. They had been following her, they had been at her home before, and they had started this fire now. She imagined Rachel’s brothers, and perhaps Chuck Thomas himself, finding the girls at Amanda’s apartment and making them leave. Taking them to Skip’s office, telling them what to say. She was in a whole different kind of trouble than she had known.

Fears about the case faded as an even more frightening truth emerged: everything she owned was in that apartment. The few traces of her past—photos, softball trophies, her baby blanket—all gone. Her home and everything from her past was destroyed, and soon her career and everything she had built for herself, including her friendship with Jake, would follow.

The roar in her head and the fierce pounding in her ears were paralyzing. Her phone vibrated in her purse, but the sound was foreign and confusing. The vibrating continued. Through the relentless snow, Amanda watched a part of her roof collapse over where her living room used to be. The vibrating persisted, so finally she picked up her phone and saw that she had four missed calls and had a text message from William.

Lucy in early labor. Both baby and Lucy in trouble. Get to Children’s Hosp. ASAP! She’s asking for you.

Clarity returned as Amanda drove away from her home and the disastrous mess she had created, and toward the only part of her life she had left.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

St. Paul Children’s Hospital was bright and welcoming, with large colorful paintings and mobiles in the entryway. The cheeriness of the décor was a sharp contrast to the faces of the people inside. Amanda had overheard someone saying that a bus full of high school basketball players had been part of a multicar pileup on the interstate, and there had been fatalities. Local news crews were setting up. A command center had been established at the hospital for family members awaiting news, and so near-hysterical parents surrounded Amanda.

Amanda felt like her soul had been lifted out of her body, and the empty shell that remained was moving through the hospital like a zombie. Somehow she found the OB unit and the family waiting area that had been taken over by Lucy and Will’s family. William was perched on the edge of a couch with his head in his hands. He was wearing hospital scrubs, and her stomach lurched when she saw blood on his boots. Cynthia, Marina, and Rosie were seated in a row on another couch, Rosie clutching a rosary in one hand and Kleenexes in the other. William’s dad was on the phone, and his mother was rubbing Will’s back.

Will got up and immediately wrapped Amanda in a huge hug. Tears popped into her eyes, and she willed him not to speak so she didn’t have to know. He pulled back and looked at her, but the words would not come. He shook his head and opened his mouth to tell her, but instead just crumpled into a sob. She held him again, and crisis Amanda re-emerged from a place long gone. Crisis Amanda had sat alone in surgical waiting areas at age fourteen, had held her mother’s head while she vomited, and had collected her mother’s ashes from the funeral home alone. Crisis Amanda didn’t feel things.

Patting Will’s back, Amanda whispered, “I know, I know.” She did not tell him that it would be okay, because she knew it might not be.

“I’m sorry,” Will said, pulling back and trying to compose himself. “I might lose them both.” He clasped his hands over his head and tried to breathe. “It just went so fast. She woke up and said it hurt, and the next thing I knew she was bleeding. I don’t know how there could be so much blood.” An image of Lucy, wide eyed, bleeding and terrified popped into her head, and she swayed for a moment before recomposing herself.

Will sat back down and his mother put her arms around him again. Amanda turned toward Rosie and saw both her daughters leaning into her, Marina with her head on Rosie’s shoulder. An image of her own mother popped into her head, and she wondered when, if ever, her mother comforted her instead of the other way around.

* * *

The room was cold, sterile. Amanda wanted to go to the nurses station for some knitted blankets, but this was not her hospital, and she was not at home here the way she was at her mother’s hospital for so many years.

Amanda sat on a chair near William, and his mother whispered to Amanda what they knew so far. Lucy was in surgery because of massive hemorrhaging due to suspected placental abruption. Lucy was barely conscious by the time they got to Children’s by ambulance, the weather slowing them down and resulting in more blood loss. The baby was in distress, and even though he was at thirty-one weeks gestation they assumed they were going to have to deliver him. Survival rates at thirty-one weeks are around fifty percent depending on other circumstances, and in this situation the placental abruption did not improve his chances. And yes, Will’s mother said tearfully, the baby is a boy.

Amanda absorbed this information without reaction, her emotions simply absent. There was nothing to do but wait.

* * *

Darkness came as the storm raged on. Amanda left the waiting area to get coffee and hot chocolate for everyone, paying with the money she should use for her rent, her stomach lurching for a moment when she remembered that rent was no longer an issue for her. In the cafeteria she overheard that the only fatality from the bus accident was the driver, but six teenage boys had life-threatening injuries. She approached the cash register behind a familiar-looking news reporter talking to her cameraman.

She carried two trays of coffee and hot chocolate back to the waiting area, but found that everyone already had Caribou Coffee and sandwiches, courtesy of William’s uncle, who had just arrived. She felt ridiculous holding the trays and didn’t know what to do. Rosie, who had been clutching her rosary with her eyes closed, looked up and smiled weakly at Amanda. Grimacing she got up from her plastic sofa and crossed the room to take one of Amanda’s hot chocolates. She kissed Amanda’s cheek and whispered, “
Gracias, chica
.” Crisis Amanda wasn’t as stoic as she used to be. With great effort, Amanda squashed down her tears.

* * *

Lucy and Judge Bach are drinking hot chocolate sitting in front of a fireplace. Jacob and William are playing chess, the baby in Will’s arms. Trix is serving cake. Amanda is afraid to approach them until Trix spots her and tells her to sit down. But Amanda doesn’t belong so she doesn’t move. Zoe appears next to her and whispers, “Your mom did the best she could.” Amanda whispers back, “I don’t fit here. I’m a victim, a client, one of the people we work with. I’m alone.” Zoe shakes her head. “You’re surrounded by people who love you. You’re only alone in your head.”

Amanda awakened suddenly, her neck sore from sleeping awkwardly in a chair. Will was gone, but everyone else looked different—smiling and relaxed. Cynthia ran over and hugged Amanda. “Lucy’s okay!”

Amanda glanced over at Rosie, who was politely smiling and nodding at Will’s mother sitting next to her. “What about the baby?”

“Javier William is a fighter.” Rosie beamed. They named the baby after Rosie’s late husband.

“Will is with him now. He’s in an incubator and has a machine that breathes for him,” Will’s mom said, patting Rosie’s leg. “But the doctor said his weight is good and his lungs are quite strong for thirty-one weeks.”

“Wow. That’s so great.” She rubbed her face and tried to wake up. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Like four hours,” Marina said. “We all whispered when the doctor was in here.”

“Wonderful.”

“Nobody else can see the baby tonight, and Lucy is still asleep, so we’re getting ready to go.” Cynthia was pulling her coat and mittens on. “Mom got us a hotel room across the street.”

“Hotel room,” Amanda said worriedly. That would be easier, but she wasn’t sure if she had enough room on her credit card to pay for a hotel. Again, without any rent to pay, she had plenty of money right now. She wondered which hotel they were in, and if she would even be able to get a room for herself. She looked around the room and knew from experience that she would be allowed to sleep here too.

“
Vamonos, chica
.” Rosie stood in front of Amanda and held her hand out to her. “It’s time for bed.”

“I call sharing a bed with Amanda,” Marina said with a grin while Cynthia made a face.

“Come on! Mama farts in her sleep,” Cynthia groaned.

Rosie swatted at Cynthia. “You will sleep in the car if you don’t watch out.” But she smiled as she held onto Amanda’s hand and led them to the elevator. Overwhelmed with humility and gratitude, the thought occurred to her that it might be time to accept that she really did have a place in this family.

Chapter Thirty

Amanda awoke before the others, Marina inches from her face and snoring loudly. All things considered, she was comfortable. Worried about Lucy and the baby, but in a contented state of denial. It was Saturday, so she could avoid dealing with the disaster that was her life for at least one more day. She had turned her cell phone off and appreciated how she had no choice but to live in the moment.

It was after nine o’ clock before the rest of them started to move. Amanda knew from experience that everyone in Lucy’s family was edgy in the morning. The girls took turns in the bathroom while Amanda peeked outside and saw that the storm had finally lifted. The sky was gloriously blue. A truck fitted with a plow was scraping the already dirty and melting snow into huge mounds at the end of the hotel parking lot.

Since none of them had packed any clothes, they could only brush their teeth with courtesy toothbrushes from the front desk. They checked out of the hotel by ten and returned to the hospital.

As Rosie and the girls went to visit with Lucy, Amanda drifted away and wandered through the hospital. She wanted to give the family a chance to see Lucy and the baby, and she knew she had nowhere else she wanted to be.

Amanda allowed herself to think about her mess of a life. She knew she had to go to work on Monday, and she decided to offer to resign. If they allowed her to quit instead of firing her, she was considering returning to school for a Masters Degree in Social Work. Hopefully she could learn enough not to make such a colossal mistake again. Since she didn’t have a home, she could move anywhere, but ideally she would go back to the U. She even thought about going back to Apple Falls to live close to Lucy and William and help with the baby.

Amanda made her way to the cafeteria for a bagel and diet coke. Her plan felt adequate for now. Focusing on helping Lucy took some of the sting out all the loss. With aching sadness, Amanda realized for the first time that she really loved her job. In the past year, Amanda had learned how to be proud of herself, and how fulfilling it was to give something back instead of always feeling like she was taking from other people. Despite what she had done, Amanda still believed that she could be a good social worker. She truly felt that her history made her more empathetic, more understanding, and more respectful to the families she worked with. Her pride allowed her to believe that she had something unique to offer, and she couldn’t let this one mistake take everything away. She owed herself more than that.

* * *

The day passed slowly. She found a lounge area outside of the oncology unit that had a TV showing a Twins preseason game. None of the big players were in, but it was still a pretty good way to pass time. She eavesdropped on two dads making sports small talk. They both acknowledged that they were “out of the baseball loop.” One dad’s little girl had just received a bone marrow transplant, and the other’s son was newly diagnosed, so they also talked a little about doctors and treatments and nurses on the floor. They both had the familiar look of hospital families—unshaven, rumpled clothes from sleeping in chairs, and tears barely below the surface that could come out with any or no provocation.