When she arrived at the bridge, she entered it without feeling the least bit nervous. Ben would be so proud of her calm.
She could already visualize herself on the other side, grabbing another fistful of dirt to add to the jar Crystal had given her.
She drove with her right hand on the steering wheel, and her left elbow nonchalantly hanging out of the open window. She could feel the wind in her hair. No qualms. No lurching stomach. No heart palpitations.
Nearly halfway across, she heard a crash. The car in front of her came to an abrupt stop and Moriah stomped on her brakes so suddenly, her truck engine died. The car behind her missed ramming her bumper by inches.
The driver of the car behind her laid on his horn. She turned to look at him. Probably an impatient tourist. An islander wouldn’t act that way. Couldn’t he see something was wrong up ahead?
She pushed herself out her window and sat on the edge, straining to look over the cars in front. As she had suspected, there was a wreck up ahead. People were already piling out of their cars to investigate.
She glanced back, again, at the man in the car behind her. He was gesturing oddly and continuing to honk his horn—as though she could do anything about the wreck!
Then it struck her where she was. She couldn’t go forward. She couldn’t go backward. She was pinned in on all sides, here on this bridge.
Trapped.
Her mouth grew dry and she felt dizzy. She slipped back down into the driver’s seat before she could fall out. Not a panic attack! Not now when she had been doing so well…
Honk! Honk!
Why did this idiot keep honking his horn at her?
Her panic attack was suddenly replaced with annoyance. She grabbed the truck handle, opened the door, slid out and walked back to the car. Her legs were a bit wobbly but, otherwise, she was pretty steady.
“So, what’s your problem?” She approached the man’s window. “There’s been an accident up ahead. I can’t move my truck, no matter how much you honk.”
“Chest pains.” The man was elderly and he was pale and shaking.
“I’ll get help!” Moriah was off like a shot. She flew to the front of the bridge where a large knot of people had gathered around two damaged cars.
“There’s a man having a heart attack back there,” she shouted. “I need an ambulance.”
“One’s already coming.” A young man said. He was holding one of those bulky car phones. “We called as soon as we saw the crash, but it’s not as bad as we thought.”
Two people had been helped out of the wrecked cars. Neither seemed to be badly hurt, although the back of one of their cars was crushed and the front of the one behind was crumpled. A siren sounded nearby.
“Send the EMTs to the blue Lincoln,” she instructed. “Tell them to hurry!”
She raced back to the old man and found him breathing raggedly and clutching his chest.
“Hang on, the ambulance is on its way. They’ll be here any second now.”
“Bless you,” the man gasped.
Two EMTs hurried toward them, pushing a gurney. They checked him over quickly. Then they helped him out of the car, buckled him onto the collapsible gurney and wheeled him to the ambulance.
As the siren ebbed away, the car in front of her began to move. The young man with the car phone who had called for the ambulance made his way toward her.
“We’ve pushed the wreck out of the way,” he said. “People can drive around it. Cops are talking to the ones involved. If you think it’s okay, I’ll drive the old man’s car off the bridge and park it.”
“Someone needs to,” Moriah said. “Thanks.”
She drove off the bridge and pulled into the small parking lot on the other side. The police were indeed questioning some people and were inspecting the two wrecked vehicles. She watched as the old man’s car was parked, and the young man handed the keys over to the police. She waited there until everyone, including the cops, cleared out. As she watched, the bridge slowly began its rotation out over the water again as several boats went through.
She had been trapped on it. Trapped and starting to panic. Then she had responded to the old man’s suffering and forgotten that she was afraid. Funny how thinking about someone besides herself had made the panic go away.
Getting back out of the truck, she squatted in the gravel and brushed it aside until she could scoop up another small handful of dirt. The jar that Crystal had given her sat on the ground beside her. She let the handful sift through her fingers into it. She had pretended to herself that, when she’d managed to fill the jar with hard-earned dirt from the other side of the bridge, she would be well. The handful didn’t completely fill it. There was still an inch of space left.
It didn’t matter.
She already knew she was going to be okay.