God, the doctor finally comes to life. “Welcome back. Do you know where you are?”
Ginny squints at him as if she’s trying to place him.
“I’m Dr. Travis and you’re in Dahlia Springs Memorial Hospital. You were in a car accident. Do you remember anything?”
“Jane?”
“No, Mama, it’s Skye and Summer.”
She looks confused, gazing at us as if she can’t quite place us. “I don’t want you. I want my baby. I want my Jane.”
I flinch. Her words are a punch to my gut. I’m a sucker, a fool for coming all the way down here against my better judgment. I hate myself for letting her get to me, letting her rejection matter.
God, I need a cigarette.
Skye clears her throat. I can actually see her regroup, straightening and plastering on that I’m-in-charge-and-everything’s-just-wonderful smile before she looks at Dr. Travis.
“Why don’t you give us a few minutes?” He smiles. “In fact, go relax and have a cup of coffee while I examine her. By the time you finish, we should be ready for you.”
For a moment I fear I’m slipping, that I might succumb to a dizzying spiral of emotion.
Skye touches my arm, and for some odd reason, that yanks me back from the brink. Oh, God. Not another panic attack.
“Mama, you just rest,” she says. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Ginny closes her eyes.
Dr. Travis walks us to the door. Despite my sister’s all-is-well smile, I know Skye’s just as flummoxed as I am because she’s quiet. My sister is rarely quiet.
“Just give us fifteen minutes,” he says before calling in his students so they can watch and listen. It reminds me of a carnival sideshow freakapalooza.
Step right up. See the woman who ate her young and hear the amazing story of how the children lived to tell about it.
Out in the hall, the air feels lighter. Free of the essence of Jane that was crowding Ginny’s room, edging us out. But I still have an annoying ringing in my ears.
Finally, Skye breaks the silence. “Well, how about that?” Her voice is low and conspiratorial.
“Yeah, how ’bout that. We’re here, and only Jane will do. Some things never change.”
She pushes the button on the elevator and crosses her arms. Her lips are pressed into a thin line and she’s eyeing me with that disapproving-mother look.
“Actually, I was talking about our mother regaining consciousness.”
Oh, get over yourself. This act might work on her kids, but I’ll be dammed if she’s going to make me feel like a schmuck. “Look, I’m glad Ginny is awake, but don’t you get tired of the same old sorry song and dance? She wants Jane. You know where Jane is, so call her or go get her or something. Whatever it takes to make that woman happy. I certainly don’t have it in me.”
Skye sighs as if she’s so exasperated she can’t contain her disgust.
Fine. Whatever.
I turn my back on her and, with a shaky hand, pull out my cell phone and dial information. “Connect me to American Airlines, please.”
“What are you doing?” Skye says the words to my back.
“Calling to change my flight.”
She grabs my arm.
I pull out of her grasp.
The airline’s automated attendant directs me to push the number two for reservations. As I do that, Skye walks around in front of me and stands there with her hands on her ample hips. “You can’t leave. You just got here.”
Oh, yeah? Watch me. I long to say the words, but my throat is closing up.
“How can you do this without even talking to the doctor? Summer, Mama may be awake, but we don’t know for certain she’s okay.”
I turn away from her, tempted to stick my finger in my free ear, but the elevator dings and the doors open. I glance over my shoulder at the empty lift. “Go on,” I manage to choke out. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”
No such luck. The doors slide shut without her.
“Reservations, how may I help you?” says a male voice on the other end of the line.
I draw in a deep breath, but it doesn’t fill my lungs. “I need to change my return flight to the first available flight from Dahlia Springs Municipal to La-Guardia.”
I give him my ticket information and feel a little steadier, since I was able to get the words out.
“Please hold and I’ll check for you.” I hear him typing on the other end of the line.
Skye glares at me, her chin jutting forward. “I cannot believe you’re leaving….”
“I have a flight out of Dahlia Springs Municipal connecting in Atlanta—” Skye, with her ability to drown out the world when she wants to be heard, starts talking at the same time as the airline rep. I stick my finger in my ear and close my eyes to block her out.
“Would you repeat that?” I say. “It’s noisy here.”
“I can get you on a flight to LaGuardia by way of Atlanta at two p.m. Monday.”
My eyes fly open. “I beg your pardon? This is Thursday.” Skye lifts an eyebrow and smirks. I turn away from her. “I need to fly out sooner.” Or I’ll die. I don’t want to die in Dahlia Springs. “Why not today or tomorrow?” Tomorrow at the very latest. Please.
“The last American Airlines flight for this week left Dahlia Springs twenty-three minutes ago.”
“So you’re telling me there are no flights out of this place for four days?”
“Not on American. There’s not a big demand for flights to Dahlia Springs so we only provide service Monday through Thursday.”
Not a big demand. Surprise, surprise.
My heart pounds. I put my hand on my chest and take a deep breath to calm myself. “Oh, God. I’m stuck.”
“Excuse me?” he says.
I rack my brain for a solution. “Can’t you route me through a different city?”
More typing. My heart feels like it’s keeping time with his keyboard cadence.
Skye’s in my face again. “I really can’t believe you.” She puts her hands on her temples, like the drama queen she is. “No, wait, yes I can. It’s just like you to hightail it when things are tough.”
Oh. I’m tempted
