The Best Man's Baby(61)

She looked away from the rearview mirror to the road ahead, just in time to see the eighteen-wheeler take the highway on-ramp too fast directly in front of her. Her heart slammed up against her ribs with the painful realization that she wouldn’t be able to get out of the way in time. She pounded the brakes and veered the steering wheel to the left.

Her car, the truck, the road, blurred and slowed until they floated in only a silent, throbbing bubble. The ominous, thunderous drone of the truck turning on its side and slamming onto the road, mingling with Christopher’s shrill cry, were the last sounds she heard before everything turned black.



Voices, no, a voice was calling her. Where was she?

“I’m going to get you out of here, sweetheart. Can you hear me?” the voice whispered again. It was familiar. It was gruff, strained and filled with…worry. It was a man’s voice. She tried to lift her head to nod, but it was as though she were trying to lift a sandbag. Sirens hummed in the distance, slicing through the fogginess that held her mind captive.

“Mommy,” whimpered a voice she knew instinctively, and kicked her adrenaline into high gear.

“Christopher,” she tried to yell, but her voice only made a soft whisper. She needed to get to her son.

“He’s fine. He’s going to be okay,” the man said again. The reassurance was all she had to cling to. There was shuffling. Christopher was whimpering and she struggled to push against whatever it was that was pinning her down.

“Where are we?” She tried to blink, but whenever she opened her eyes they burned. She squeezed them shut and tried to breath but her lungs were heavy. Smoke. There was smoke.

“You were in a car accident. Help is on the way. I’ve got you and your son almost out, okay? I need you stay calm and just do as I say. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Grace,” the man said. His hands reached across her waist and she felt him tug. Strong arms moved across her body as he pulled at the seat belt. There was something about him, a familiarity. She tried to stay awake, to open her eyes, but it was useless.

“The car is filled with smoke and that truck is going to light up. We’ve got to get out of here. Can you move?” he asked as he continued to pull the seat belt. Adrenaline and panic raced through her and she prayed for strength as she tried to move, to lift her limbs. Nothing moved. Or worked.

“Mommy,” Christopher cried and then coughed. He needed to get out of the car. She needed to save her child.

“Christopher, it’s okay, Mommy is here,” she said, willing her voice not to waver.

“Just get my son out, okay? I’ll be fine. Get him out,” she whispered, the man’s head hunched close to hers.

“I’m getting you both out,” the man said, his voice rough and sure. There was strength in it.

“Get him out. Promise me—”

“Are you sure you don’t feel anything?” he asked again, ignoring her plea and pulling on her seat belt again. Her seat belt finally unlatched and she felt his sigh. “Got it. I want to wait for the paramedics to get here before I move you. I don’t know how long we have. Your car is sitting right under the truck.”

Panic swam through her body. The smoke was thick and she began coughing. Everything ached and she fought desperately to stay awake.

“I’m going to get you out of here, sweetheart.”

“Mommy,” Christopher cried and then coughed, the fear in his little voice jarring her back to the present.

“We’re going, just hold on.” She forced the words out of her mouth, trying to sound strong. Maybe she could close her eyes for a minute.

Seconds later, minutes later, hands were lifting her. Voices were talking. She listened for the man’s voice. There were different voices. Something about a fire and getting out. Grace struggled to break through the fog in her head, and the sleep that was drowning her, the heat that was stifling her voice. Christopher. Where was Christopher? The man?

“Christopher,” she tried to yell as her body landed on something soft and cool.

“He’s coming,” a woman’s voice said as she placed something hard against her neck.

Her son’s shrill, distraught scream mingled with a man’s roar of pain shot through the haze she was engulfed in. Her eyes sprung open and a striking blaze of orange was all she saw until sleep claimed her.