The ambulance sped away, and our neighbor Cathy helped me to my feet. “You’re trembling,” she said. “I’m gonna wrap you in a warm quilt and make you a cup of tea.”

A quilt and tea? That wouldn’t fix things. Nothing could.

I took a last look at the scene of the accident. A policeman was questioning the driver whose car had hit Robin. He looked about eighteen, Cathy’s age, and kept tugging at his shirt collar. A red-hot hatred ran through me. I wished I could kick him, scratch him, bite him. I would never forgive him for hurting my sister, not in a million, billion years.

Cathy put her arm around me and led me from the street to her house. Though she piled quilts on me, I was freezing from the inside out. My teeth chattered. Her dog, Scruffy, burrowed under the covers and cuddled up with me.

The phone rang, and Cathy ran to answer it. “Yes, yes, sir,” she said. “Don’t worry. I know I sound young, but I used to babysit Sarah. Yeah, I think she’s doing okay. She’s wrapped in a quilt and sipping some tea.”

Cathy stayed on the phone a long time and then hung up the receiver. “That was your grandpa. He’s coming to get you.”

“Why?”

She picked at her fingernails and didn’t look at me directly. “Because your parents are spending the night at the hospital. Your grandparents want you to stay with them until Robin’s better.”

I hid my face in Scruffy’s fur. Ever since Grandpa called, Cathy’s eyes were swimming in tears. I was scared to ask why.

At five thirty, Cathy’s mama got home from working in the hosiery mill. She fussed over me and made a meat loaf, but my stomach churned. I pretended to be asleep, so I wouldn’t have to eat it.

Just after supper, Grandpa shuffled in, wearing his Old Hickory overalls. I flung the quilts aside and barreled into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. He patted my hair. “How’s my girl?”

“I’m afraid, Grandpa.”

“Me too,” he whispered. He thanked Cathy and her mama for taking care of me. “We surely appreciate it.” He promised to call whenever he had more news. Then Grandpa turned to me. “We need to get you packed up,” he said.

Our house was quiet, except for a running toilet. I wiggled the handle until it stopped, and then hurried down the hall to my bedroom. I called it the lavender library, because the walls were purple, and it was full of books. I packed my clothes, then stuffed sandals and a pair of Keds underneath them. There was only room left for my journal and a few novels. I stood in front of my bookshelf, thinking about which ones I might need. Finally I chose Little House on the Prairie, Heidi Grows Up, and The Wizard of Oz.

I lugged the heavy suitcase to Robin’s room. It was decorated with Western stuff, because she wanted to be a cowgirl when she grew up. I took a picture of Robin wearing a cowboy hat off her dresser. I wrapped it in a towel and placed it in my suitcase.

Grandpa’s dog, Rowdy, was waiting in the back of the truck. He barked and wagged his tail. I was glad to see him.

“You don’t mind if I put your suitcase in the back with Rowdy, do you?”

“Course not. He can’t hurt that old suitcase.”

“I’ll get your bike,” Grandpa said. “You might be staying with us for a while.”

A while sounded like a long time. I wanted the doctors to make Robin better and send her home tomorrow or, better yet, right now.

Night settled in, and the sky would be black as pitch before we reached the farm. Grandpa rolled his window down, and a warm breeze blew in. We left the small town of Tucker behind and traveled down a country road with no streetlights. Grandpa sang “In the Sweet By-and-By.” He had a wonderful, deep voice. Listening to him soothed me like a lullaby. I could almost pretend the accident hadn’t happened.

When he finished the song, Grandpa said, “Sweet pea, what happened today?”

I didn’t know how to answer him. I saw the accident, but my memories were jumbled. At first I didn’t know Robin was hurt. I just thought she had wandered off. And then when I saw her lying on the ground, it felt the way Reverend Reece describes hell when he’s all wound up.

“Sarah?”

Grandpa was waiting for me to explain, but I didn’t know how to own up to a mistake that big. Finally, I took the easy way out. “Robin ran and I couldn’t catch her in time.”

“Where was she going?” Grandpa asked.

“I don’t know. Could we not talk about it? Please.”

Grandpa reached into his pocket and handed me a handkerchief. “Maybe you’ll feel more like talking tomorrow.”

I didn’t think so.

It grew even darker on Shady Creek Road. The pavement ended, and Grandpa’s red truck bumped along on the gravel. There were no signs and no streetlights. We passed the shadows of cow pastures, tobacco barns, and cornfields.

“Dang it,” Grandpa said. “Now I can’t see at all. Can you drive from here?” Grandpa needed an operation for cataracts, but so far he’d been too stubborn to get one.

Grandpa pulled over, and I changed seats with him. Though I was only twelve, that didn’t matter on a farm. I had been driving ever since my feet could reach the pedals. A few minutes later, I turned into the farmhouse driveway and shifted into park.

“Mighty fine driving job,” Grandpa said. “It’s good to be home.”

It surely was. Though I didn’t live there, the farm felt like a second home to me. Granny had left the front-porch light on for us, but only the moon shone on the barn and outbuildings. I usually visited the farm with Robin. I had a baseball-size lump in my throat.

Granny was waiting in the kitchen. She smelled like fresh-baked biscuits, and when she hugged me, her faded housedress felt soft against my cheek. “I bet you haven’t had anything to eat,” she said. My granny thought a hot meal would help almost any problem.

I told Granny I wasn’t hungry, but she didn’t let that stop her. “A little bit of chicken soup will make you feel better. It’ll warm you up and calm your stomach.” Granny ladled soup into a bowl and crumbled saltine crackers on top. “Now eat it real slow.”

It was easier to do it Granny’s way than to argue. When I finished, she led me to the bathroom and drew a tubful of warm water. “Climb in and take a nice, long soak,” she said. “I’ll be back directly to check on you.”

My arms and legs relaxed in the warm water. I closed my eyes and wished it could wash away the accident, suck it right down the drain like it had never happened.

Sometime much later, Granny knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”

My skin had shriveled like a dried apple. “Yeah, I need to dry off.” Granny handed me a fluffy towel, and I burrowed into its softness. I perched on the commode while Granny worked a comb through my tangled hair.

“You forgot to pack a nightgown, so you’ll have to sleep in one of mine.”

It had been a long time since I had let anybody take care of me like that. I followed Granny to the big bed, climbed in, and pulled the quilt up to my chin. “Dear Lord,” Granny prayed. “Thank you for both of my granddaughters. Please watch over them tonight. I don’t understand why this terrible thing has happened, but I’m trusting you to get us through it. Amen.” She bent down and gave me a goodnight kiss.

All alone, I couldn’t sleep in the big bed. I thought about Granny’s prayer. Her faith was strong, but I had trouble believing in things I couldn’t see.

My arms felt empty, and I wanted to hug Robin so much it hurt. I climbed out of bed and took her picture from my suitcase. Clutching the frame to my chest, I knelt by the window.

The farmyard was covered by moonlight. When I was little, I used to wish upon a star. I closed my eyes and wished for two things. The first was for Robin to be good as new. And though my second wish was impossible, I wished it with all my heart. Somehow, I wished the accident hadn’t been my fault.