Choosing Henley(56)

“The doctor will come out and see you as soon as he’s made an assessment,” Suzanne repeats.

“He’ll be okay, honey,” John coos, stroking his wife’s hair. “Come on, my girls. Let’s go sit.” He puts an arm around each of us and walks us back into the waiting room.

I settle into a seat between Hannah and John. Then we wait.

We wait for what seems like an eternity before the locked doors to emergency open again. It’s not the doctor, but it’s Greyson. He searches the room before his eyes finally land on Hannah and then on us. He walks over quickly, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head. I stand, unable to wait any longer for someone to tell me something.

“Is he okay?” I ask, pleading with him to tell me something.

“The doctors are with him now. I can only tell you what I know. Are you sure you don’t want to wait for what they have to say?” he questions, looking between me and Jami’s parents.

I realize then that they have no idea how Greyson fits in to the entire story. He must sense the same thing because he reaches past me to shake John’s hand.

“I’m Greyson, Hannah’s boyfriend,” he tells them. “I was the paramedic on site when they found your son.”

“Oh,” Patti says, her knees buckling slightly.

“We want to know anything you can tell us,” John says firmly, wrapping his arm around my shoulder again. “What happened?”

I know he’s not supposed to be telling us anything, but I’m thankful that he is.

“Jami was snowboarding in an out-of-bounds area.” His words make me wince because we all grew up here. We all know how dangerous that can be, but so many of the guys do it anyway. “We aren’t sure how exactly it happened. He was unconscious when they found him, but somehow, he ended up in a tree well,” Greyson says, stopping when both Patti and I sob again.

We all know what those are. Tree wells are hidden holes in the snow. They form around pine and fir trees because their branches collect falling snow and that keeps it from reaching the ground underneath the tree. As snow accumulates outside the area protected by the branches, it eventually reaches the snow-covered branches and hides the holes. It’s a common hazard that comes with snowboarding or skiing out of bounds. You can’t even tell how tall a tree in the snow is most of the time. It’s like only seeing the tip of an iceberg and having no idea how big the iceberg is underneath.

“It’s likely that he was going in between the trees and fell in before he even knew what had happened,” Greyson explains. “He was extremely lucky. It was a shallow well and he landed in it feet-first.”

To someone who doesn’t know about them, that doesn’t sound lucky, but it is. At least a few people die every year on our mountain from tree-well deaths. A person can fall all the way to the ground in a tree well and not be able to get up because when they fall in, the snowpack around them follows them. Most people who fall into tree walls are unable to rescue themselves and they suffocate to death. Buried alive in the snow.

Just as he finishes explaining what happened, a doctor comes through the doors. “I’m looking for the family of Jamison Henley,” she says, scanning the waiting room.

John steps forward, his arm around his wife. “That’s us.”

“Is he okay?” I ask her.

She looks at me over the rim of her glasses. “Are you family?”

Before I even get a chance to reason with her, John steps between us. “Yes, she is family.” I wish I could hug him in that moment, but I don’t. He’s been my rock today, and I am so grateful for him.

“Okay,” the doctor says, obviously not really buying it but going ahead anyway. “Jamison suffered a concussion from his initial fall into the tree well. He required stitches to a few cuts on his head during the fall. We are monitoring him, but there looks to be no permanent damage. We are giving him warmed IV fluids to treat the mild hypothermia. All in all, your son was very lucky.”

“So he’s going to be okay?” Patti asks softly from beside her husband.

“Yes, ma’am. Your son is going to be just fine. If you would come with me, you can see him now.”

I kiss Hannah goodbye and envelope Greyson in a massive hug. “Thank you,” I tell them before following the doctor into the emergency area.

We let her lead us past rows of curtains before she finally stops at one and pulls the curtain back. “We are still waiting for him to wake up, but you can go inside.”

The tears pool in my eyes, slowly fall over, and run down my cheeks. I wait, letting his parents walk in before me. I want nothing more than to climb up into bed with him, but I know they need to see him. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, so I grip the bar at the base of the bed and look him over. My handsome guy is lying in the middle of a hospital bed, his beautiful lips still almost blue from the cold and blankets covering every inch of him.