Annie is horribly damaged by life.
She believes she cannot be loved.
Then Bud becomes her pen pal
and love finds them both...
in one way or another.
Every few days I will post a little more.
Soon you will be able to read it all.
If you absolutely can't wait to find out
what happens between Annie and Bud,
(and I hope you can't!)
you are welcome to click a link and buy an e-book or a paperback copy.
And now, today's post:
CHAPTER TWO
Part 1
Saturday, May 15, 2004
Seeing the letter took me back. It was an early summer evening. We were 16 and had been at our Boy Scout meeting at my church, which was about a mile from my house. We had completed our First Aid merit badges that night and were walking home in the twilight, feeling a bit cocky with our new skills. Directly in front of us a car ran a red light, smashing broadside into the driver’s door of another car in the middle of the intersection. Bennie grabbed my arm and yelled “Go call 911,” as we had been trained to do. This was before either of us had cell phones, so I ran for the corner payphone and Bennie ran to give first aid.
The man who blew through the red light was staggering around his
car, and I could smell the booze on him from twenty feet away. He had a nasty
head gash, but otherwise acted fine. The young lady in the other car, however,
was in bad shape. Without hesitation, Bennie climbed into the passenger side,
whipped off his shirt, and used it to apply pressure to whatever bleeding he
could find, all the while murmuring encouragement to girl and ordering her to
hold on. When the EMT’s finally arrived, he had more blood on him than she had
inside her, but she was still breathing. The medics stabilized her as best they
could and loaded her into the ambulance.
“Where are you taking her?” Bennie asked.
“Sacred Heart!” one of the medics yelled over his shoulder.
With the name of the hospital ringing in his ears, Bennie found
me on the edge of the crowd.
“Come on!” he yelled and took off running.
I fell in step with him, and we ran together with the practiced
ease of friends who had trained together for years.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Home,” he said. “I need a ride to the hospital.”
“My house is closer.”
It was, and Bennie changed directions.
My mom was in the kitchen when we burst through the door, yelling
for her. Running to the front room, alarmed by the intensity of our shouts, she
freaked out when she saw us. Bennie was covered with blood, and we were both
sweating and yelling for her to take us to Sacred Heart. After calming us down
and determining that the blood was neither Bennie’s nor mine, she called my
dad, who was working late, and told him what was going on. Then she called
Bennie’s mom and told her, too, reassuring her that Bennie was okay. After
hanging up, she marched Bennie into the bathroom, had him wash his hands and
arms, and drove us to Bennie’s house where he took a world record short shower
and put on fresh clothes. Only then did she drive us to the hospital.
Since we weren’t family, the nurse at the desk wouldn’t talk to
us about the girl’s condition, but when we told her that Bennie was the hero
who saved the girls life, she broke down and told us the girl was in surgery.
We still didn’t know her name, but she was alive.
Thank God.
The three of us took over a corner of the waiting room,
alternately talking, praying, napping, and consuming various chips and sodas
from the vending machines. A doctor finally appeared and shook Bennie’s hand.
He congratulated him for his heroism and said his quick action saved her life.
He also told us she was in recovery and could not have visitors of any kind
until the next day, and then only immediate family.
Since we could do nothing more, my mom herded us out of
the hospital and took us to an all-night diner for burgers and ice cream. After
Bennie and I had stuffed ourselves silly, which was our normal way of eating
back then, she drove us home.
I figured it for a memorable one-day event. Bennie wasn’t so
easily dissuaded. Like I said, he was the nicest guy I knew, and he was truly
concerned for the girl. That very morning, at the ungodly hour of seven a.m.,
after only four hours of sleep, he yanked me out of bed with a phone call. He
said his mom was driving us back to the hospital and they would be by to pick
me up in ten minutes.
After the appropriate amount of whining, I hung up, staggered out
of bed, threw on some clothes, and clomped outside to wait. Fifteen minutes
later, Bennie and I had resumed our vigil in the Sacred Heart ICU waiting room.
Chapter Two, Part 2 Coming Soon
