I had hysterical hiccups when Levi arrived, looking ready to tear apart the driver who’d hit me…if the driver had been dumb enough to follow us to William’s apartment, which he wasn’t.
“I saw the car,” he said, though I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to me or to William. I couldn’t see William’s response because I hadn’t moved from the crook of his arm since he brought me a thick sweatshirt to warm up in. The sobbing had ceased, but I hadn’t come up with a good reason to move yet.
Levi crouched beside me. “How are you doing, hon?”
I nodded and hiccupped.
“Do you want some water?”
I shook my head and hiccupped.
“I tried,” Will said, his voice dry.
“Where are your glasses?” Levi asked, looking around.
“Cupboard to the left of the sink.”
Levi strode over to the kitchenette, found a glass, and filled it with water. He returned, holding the glass to my lips. “Drink.”
I furrowed my brows at him—and hiccupped—but he furrowed his own brows right back at me. I drank, a droplet of water making its way down my chin and onto William’s sweatshirt.
Oh well. I’d wash it for him later.
“You let the paramedics check you out, didn’t you Sara?” Levi asked after I’d drunk enough water to make him happy.
“I think so,” I said, trying out my voice to see if it still worked.
Levi studied my forehead. “I don’t like that bruise.”
“The paramedic said she had a slight concussion. They said if she gets worse or starts acting drunk to take her in.”
“Is Jayne mad?” I asked the question that weighed on me most. “That I wrecked her car?”
“You didn’t wreck her car. The driver behind you did. Jayne’s crazy worried about you though.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine,” I said, knowing as I said so that my neck hurt and my voice was scratchy from crying.
On the other hand, my feet were toasty warm from Will’s socks. These socks were very thick and very soft. Where did he buy such socks? I wanted a pair of my own. Or two. Or…if I wore them home and forgot to give them back, would he notice?
I immediately chastised myself for such a thought. I would never, could never steal. It was wrong. But for those socks, I would almost consider it.
The police came up to William’s apartment to take my statement. By then, my hiccups had stopped, and I was mostly able to speak in complete sentences that didn’t make me sound like a dumb blonde.
I told Officer McKinley how I had come to a slow stop, and after that didn’t remember much. I did tell him I had been wearing a seatbelt, my headlights were on, and I had not been using drugs. I answered all of his questions without crying all over again.
Zach informed us when the tow truck came to cart the car away. I didn’t feel the need to watch.
I tried to figure out why the experience shook me the way it had. After all, I wasn’t seriously injured. I was insured. The police had even ensured consequences were in store for the other driver. And yet I was a shaking, weeping mess.
After the police left and Jayne’s car was safely towed, I didn’t have any good reasons to stay at William’s apartment. With great reluctance, I began to tug off his socks.
“Don’t worry about them,” William said, catching me as I tried awkwardly to pull them off. “Your socks are still damp. You can bring those back later. The sweatshirt too.”
“Tomorrow…” my voice dropped off, as I thought ahead to my morning work schedule.
William shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll see you when you’re ready. Before you go though—” he held up a hand and left the apartment.
I heard his footfalls down the stairs.
Levi had my things gathered in his arms. “Where’d William go?”
“Um…” I took a few steps toward the door. “I’m not sure.”
A pounding up the stairs, and William returned.
With books.
“Take these,” he said, his voice only slightly wheezy. “And don’t worry about bringing them back, you can have them.”
I frowned, checking their spines for remainder marks, thinking he’d gone through the sale bin on my account.
No mark. He’d just plucked four new books off the shelf and run upstairs to give them to me.
“Thank you,” I said, studying the titles. There was a lovely hardbound copy of C.S. Lewis’s The Horse and His Boy, as well as The Complete Works of Emily Dickinson, Salmon Rushdie’s Haroun and the Sea of Stories, and a copy of Stuff White People Like.
William looked down at me, holding my gaze. I couldn’t understand the look in his eyes. Maybe that was just my headache.
“I’ll see you later,” I said, starting to feel unsettled.
William nodded. He looked miserable, even more miserable than when we’d gone to his parents’ Christmas party. “Later,” he echoed.
Levi thanked William, put his arm around my shoulders, and guided me down the stairs. “I guess I didn’t need to worry,” he said when we were outside. “You were well taken care of.”
I thought about nodding, but my head pain was prohibitive. The Tylenol hadn’t kicked in yet. “Um, yes.”
“You doing okay?”
“I think so.”
He patted my shoulder.
I followed him down to his truck, telling myself that I would be safe in Levi’s truck, massive as it was. With its oversized tires and slight “lift,” as Levi said it was called, we rode higher than most of the other traffic. Surely a car driving into the truck would only hit the tires, wouldn’t it?
Still, I found myself cringing at every intersection, waiting for an impact. To distract myself, I found my phone and called Britta.
“Missed you in class today,” she said, her voice playful. “But I understand. It is Monday.”
“Well…” I played with my earlobe from beneath my phone, unsure of how to begin. “There was a car accident this morning.” I paused. “I was kind of in the middle of it.”
Britta gasped. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I am now,” I said, thinking of William’s socks. “I do have a small concussion though. I was wondering if I might be able to borrow your notes from class today.”
“Well, yeah, of course. Do you need me to go talk to your other instructors? I mean, if you’ve got a concussion, I doubt you’ll make it to class tomorrow.”
“I suppose you could. I don’t know about tomorrow. I’ve never had a concussion before.”
“I’ll make the rounds, just in case. You’ve got Meyerson and Yates tomorrow, right?”
“Um…” If only remembering didn’t hurt so much. I wondered if I’d smacked the remembering part of my brain. “I think so.”
“Do you need anything? What are you doing this afternoon?”
“I’m not really sure.” I chewed on my lip. Going home now, I had no idea what to do with myself. What did I do before I was in school full-time and working?
Right. Working full-time. And before that, studying for my GED. I hadn’t experienced a lot of nonwork time during my existence as an English woman. Goodness knew I hadn’t when I was Amish.
“What’s your address?” Britta asked.
I answered without wondering why.
“Hope you feel better,” she said. “Although I’m sure that’s what everyone is telling you to do. So I guess I should just tell you to follow directions.”
We laughed together before hanging up the phones.
I saw Jayne’s motorcycle the minute the truck pulled in near the apartment. “Jayne’s home?”
Levi smiled. “You’re surprised? I called her on the way to the bookstore. It was all I could do to stop her from rushing straight over there.”
Visions of Jayne storming in, asking questions, and having an overall moment of panic flooded my mind. They weren’t entirely fair—when my father had his heart attack, she was the one who handled the situation. But I also had a hunch that where I was concerned, she might be a bit more animated.
Before Levi could knock on the door or I could pull out a key, the door swung open.
“Oh my goodness. I’m not freaking out, but oh my goodness.” Jayne’s hands fluttered. “Come in. Sit down. Or lay down, if you’re supposed to lay down. I don’t know what you’re supposed to do about concussions, but they sound really scary on WebMD. Are you hungry? Do you want something?”
“Water?” Drinking water seemed to make Levi happy earlier. I hung up my jacket and reoriented myself.
I was home. I was safe. And I was still wearing William’s socks and sweatshirt.
The Lord had taken care of me. Everything would be okay.
My eyelids fluttered open at the sound of the knock on the door. I heard Jayne’s voice in the background. I guessed she was probably talking on her cell phone. The door opened—likely with Jayne’s help—and I heard three familiar voices.
“We wanted to drop these off for Sara,” Meg’s voice said. “Really hope she’s feeling better soon.”
I forced my eyes open, sat up, and suddenly realized that sitting up was not a good idea. The blood in my head shifted in such a way as to remind me that it had been smacked around recently against its will.
“Hi,” I said, aware that I sounded as if I had risen from the dead. “Come in, you guys. You’re here, you may as well.” I frowned. “Where’s Levi?”
Jayne held the door while Meg, Sonnet, and Britta came in out of the rain, holding a pink box I had high hopes for. “He’s picking up takeout for dinner. I’ll have him pick up extra—you guys should stay for dinner. Y’all like Chinese, right?”
Dinner plans settled, Sonnet brought the pink box to the couch. “We thought we’d bring you Saint Cupcake. It was the least we could do.” She lifted the lid so I could see the contents—a rainbow of cupcakes nestled inside looking beautiful and edible all at the same time. “It’s possible one of us might have stuck her finger into the frosting though. Just warning you.”
“That was Sonnet,” Britta clarified. “Cream cheese frosting has that effect on her. She can’t help it.”
Sonnet shrugged. “It’s an addiction.”
Britta found the first season of Pushing Daisies in Jayne’s DVD collection and suggested we watch, explaining how knitting’s shining moment occurred in the second episode.
When Levi returned, he found the four of us squashed onto the couch with Jayne in the chair. Meg paused the DVD, and we broke only long enough to fill our plates and return to our seats.
Levi sat with his back against Jayne’s chair, legs stretched out. Jayne twirled his hair between her fingers.
There was a lot of pie. I didn’t get all of the jokes on the show, but I enjoyed laughing.
I liked having friends.
After four episodes, people began to trickle out. Under Jayne’s watchful and worried eye, I readied for bed, reading The Horse and His Boy before falling asleep.
The next morning my head felt…worse.
Worse even than the day before.
I thought a shower might make me feel better, so I rose and headed for the bathroom. Inside the shower, I tried to raise my hands to shampoo my hair.
My hands, arms, and shoulders felt heavy, as if someone had tied weights to my muscles in my sleep. After ten minutes under the hot water, my muscles relaxed enough to allow me to shampoo and rinse. I was glad, in that moment, for my short hair. I couldn’t imagine washing my old hair like that.
Another fifteen minutes, and I felt I was in decent enough shape to towel off with a moderate amount of efficiency.
Dressing was another matter, so I chose a simple outfit, a long-sleeved, waffle-knit tee in a pretty print, and jeans.
Jayne had breakfast going when I walked into the kitchen. “How are you feeling?”
“I think worse.”
“Worse? Is that normal?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. After all, I’d never had a concussion before. I didn’t think my brothers back home—Elam, Amos, and Samuel—had either. Though while I’d been gone, that might have changed. I wouldn’t know.
Rather than wonder, Jayne reached for her phone. “I’m calling Joely to find out. She’s been shot at. She’d know about concussions.”
“How is she, anyway? Is she back on active duty?”
“Slated to return tomorrow. It’s killing her. She told me she actually bought a pair of shoes the other day out of sheer boredom. Now she’s in a pattern of self-loathing because of it. Afraid she’ll turn girly like I did.”
I frowned. “Being girly means matching clothes?”
“I guess.” Her expression changed the moment Joely answered.
Rather than listen in to a disjointed conversation, I sat at the kitchen table and read the front-page news, mainly because it didn’t require any movement on my part.
The sound of a short vibration pulled my attention away from a piece about bridge construction. Jayne was speaking on her phone, so it had to be mine. With an impressive amount of resolve, I found my phone in the pocket of the jacket I’d been wearing the night before. Two new text messages. From William.
Hope you’re doing okay.
That was from last night
Hope your pain is better this morning. Let me know if you need anything.
He’d sent the second just the moment before. I smiled and wrestled my fingers over the keys.
Am okay. May try to come in to work today. Thanks again for socks.
My phone buzzed two minutes later.
Don’t worry about it if you’re not up to it. It’s good for Zach to work hard. Keeps him humble. You’re welcome for socks.
“Well.” Jayne put her phone on the counter. “According to Joely, you could have whiplash, and it’s normally worse on the second and third day. So it sounds like you’re normal so far. If it continues past that, we’ll need to schedule you for a physical therapy visit. You can take some ibuprofen—it should help. I was thinking cinnamon rolls from a can sounded good. Are you game?”
“Sounds yummy,” I said, knowing my mother could out-bake the Pillsbury Dough Boy any day of the week. The thought of a visit home to my mother’s warm kitchen squeezed at my heart. But I pushed the thought aside and helped Jayne fit the rolls into a round cake pan.