Big Lies in a Small Town - Diane Chamberlain Page 0,92
ten he got whacked in the head by a softball.”
I watched his face as he spoke. The way his eyes lit up. The way the corners of his lips lifted into a half smile. “You sparkle when you talk about Nathan,” I said.
“I sparkle?” He laughed. His cheeks grew even pinker than usual.
“You do.” I smiled in spite of my painful ankle.
“Well, I guess that’s not surprising, since he means everything to me.” His voice was thick. I knew how much he wished he could have more time with his son. I touched his shoulder. “Such a good father,” I said quietly, and his smile turned a little sad. “Every two years,” I added.
He frowned at me. “Every two years?” he asked.
“Nathan’s been in the ER every two years.”
He stared at me. “I honestly hadn’t thought of that,” he said, then groaned. “And he’s only a few months into twelve. I guess I should expect the call any day now.”
“Hope not.” I smiled.
“So how about you?” he asked. “What’s your ER history?”
“Well,” I said slowly, remembering. “Just twice. When I was nine, I broke my arm. I fell on a neighbor’s brick steps. The neighbor took me home—I was screaming and crying. My mother was three sheets to the wind and she said, ‘Oh, she’s okay. She’ll be fine.’ And the neighbor said I should be taken to the ER and my mother said she could take me if she was so worried about me.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish. So the neighbor took me and they set my arm, and then they sent protective services out to my house the next day, but my mother explained the situation away, and that was that.”
Oliver shook his head. “I don’t understand parents like that,” he said.
“Neither do I.” I looked across the waiting room without really seeing anything. “That’s one of the reasons I was so hooked on Trey,” I said. “His family. I loved them. They were normal.” I shook my head at how pathetic that must sound. “They were very kind and loving. I hated losing them.”
“Do they know their son lied about driving the night of the accident?” Oliver asked.
I loved hearing those words from his mouth. I loved that he’d believed me about Trey driving. He was the only person who did.
“His parents were really … compassionate to me after the accident,” I said. His father had said, “Anyone can make a mistake,” to me as I sat numbly in their living room two days after it happened, the stitches on my forehead burning. “It’s what you do about that mistake that matters.”
“Eventually, though, I started telling the truth,” I said. “That their son had been driving. And of course, like everybody else, they thought I was lying.” I’d lost them then. Lost their sympathy. Their love. I lost my place in their hearts, which I’d believed to be so secure. “I’ll never know if they actually believed Trey over me,” I said. “They acted as though they did. I guess they had to. He was their son, and I was not their daughter, much as I wanted to be. I’d become a liability.”
Oliver’s hands rested on my shins, and he squeezed my left leg through my jeans. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then, “So I guess that was your other time in the ER? The accident?”
I hesitated. “Yes,” I said.
“You told me you weren’t injured.”
“Just a scratch.” I lifted my bangs to show him the scar. “Five stitches. I got off easy,” I said. “But I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Gotcha,” he said.
We waited another ten minutes in silence before we were finally called back to the treatment area and set up in a curtained cubicle. Oliver stayed there while I was wheeled down the hall for X-rays. When I returned to the cubicle, I was transferred to the examining table while he sat in a chair next to me. A nurse gave me a pill for the pain. We had another long wait, and I became aware of something dire happening in the cubicle next to mine. Doctors and nurses rushed back and forth. Female yelps of pain pierced the air. The sounds took me back to the accident. They took me back to Emily Maxwell’s broken body. I pictured a twisted, ruined, bloody body on the other side of the curtain next to me, and I pressed my hands over my ears.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said. I was shaking convulsively.