“Not much.” For a second, Katy tried to send Rhonda a signal that it was no time to encourage Stanley to stick around. But Rhonda missed it completely.
Stanley took the chance to jump in. “I’m glad you’re both here.” He raised his eyebrows at Rhonda. “Which one of you wants to challenge me?” He bounced a few times, his excitement spilling into his tone. “You know.., at rock-paper-scissors.” A slight chuckle came from him. “So I can show you my stuff.”
“Well, Manly Stanley.” Katy glanced at Rhonda and then pulled up her sweater sleeves. Anything to get rid of him. “I think I’ll give it a try.”
“All right.” Stanley gave a confident nod. “You know how it goes, right?” He held his left hand out, palm up. Then with his right hand he made a fist and hit his open hand three times. On the fourth he opened two fingers, making the scissors sign.
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Katy twisted her expression, doing her best to look like she was concentrating, studying his every move. “I think I get it.”
“It’s like this.” Rhonda looked at her. No question she was playing the moment.
That much was obvious. She imitated Stan ley’s moves, but she ended with a flat hand—the paper symbol.
“Yeah.” Katy gave a thoughtful nod. “I’m seeing it better.” She shifted her attention to Stanley. “Let’s play.”
A gleam shone in Stanley’s eyes. “I’m ready when you are.” They both held their hands out, palms up. Stanley’s mouth was open a little, his eyes intense.
“Ready… set.., go.” As he said “go” they both hit their hands three times with their fists,
and when they finished Katy made the scissors sign.
Stanley made paper.
Rhonda let out a victory shout and raised her hands in the air. “Katy’s the winner!”
For an instant Stanley’s face fell, and his body slumped for ward. But he recovered quickly. “You might be good at this, Katy.”
She patted the audition papers in front of her. “I might be, but Rhonda and I need to get back to the calls.”
“Just one more?”
“No more.” Katy shook her head. “Goodbye, Stanley.” He held his hand out again.
“Not one more? Serious?” “Serious.” Rhonda wiggled her finger in his direction.
“Bye.” He sighed. “Maybe next time, then.” He pointed straight at Katy. “You’ve got a future. I mean that.” Then he raised his fist in the air. “RPSers!”
Katy and Rhonda watched him go, and not until he was out the door did Rhonda collapse on the table and burst out laugh ing. “RPSers? Is he kidding?”
“No!” Katy buried her face in the crook of her arm. Rhonda’s laughter was contagious. “That’s how he acted when you left me with him at auditions.” She rolled her eyes. “What a friend.”
“Auditions!” Rhonda stopped laughing, her eyes wide. She 49
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stood and slid around to the other side of the booth, her face serious. “We have to finish callbacks.”
“I’ve been trying to say that.” Katy gave her cell phone to Rhonda and studied the next audition sheet. “Mary Reed, she gets a callback.”
“We’ve already called Tim.” Rhonda had caught her breath, and now she looked worried. “They won’t mind two calls, will they?”
“Some shows we’re not as organized as others. Anyway, a callback’s a callback.”
“Right.” Rhonda checked the list and tapped out the number on the cell phone. In a minute she’d informed the Reed family that Mary also was being called back for a second round of auditions.
The callbacks continued until eleven thirty. Only a few of the kids hadn’t been home, including Sarah Jo Stryker. Katy was surprised. After the auditions for Tom Sawyer, Alice Stryker had answered the phone on the first ring, as if she’d been sitting next to it waiting for the call. Either way, they’d left a message.
Sarah Jo would definitely be at auditions in the morning.
Katy stretched her legs out in front of her. “I can’t believe we finished before midnight. Must be some kind of record.”
“We need to be at the church in eight hours.” Rhonda downed the last of her espresso. “If I can sleep at all after this.”
Katy was about to say something about the callbacks or Stanley, but Rhonda’s cell rang before she could say anything.
“Who’d be calling this late?” Rhonda frowned and flipped open the phone.
“Hello?”
Almost immediately the expression on Rhonda’s face changed. Her smile faded and her eyes grew wide, her expression stricken.
“What is it?” Katy leaned in, her voice a whisper. “What happened?”
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Rhonda shook her head, the color draining from her cheeks. “How… how’d it happen?”
“What?” Katy stared at her friend.
Rhonda held up her finger. There was another stretch of silence, while her expression grew from stricken to horrified. “No.” The word was more of a gasp.
“No, we won’t.”
Katy’s heart was pounding. Whatever it was, the news was bad. She held her breath, waiting for Rhonda to finish the call.
“Okay.” Rhonda shaded her brow with her free hand. “Talk to you in the morning.”
She closed the phone and stared at Katy.
“What is it?” Katy reached out and put her hand over Rhonda’s.
Rhonda’s voice was breathy, filled with shock. As she spoke, tears brimmed in her eyes. “Katy… there’s been an accident.”
51
JOHN BAXTER ALMOST NEVER took a shift at St. Anne’s Hospital. He was one of the senior doctors on staff at the univer sity, with a practice that left him no time for the hospital shifts he’d had as a younger man. That night he’d already been in bed thinking about the vegetables he’d get at the farmers’ market when the phone rang.
“Dr. Baxter, there’s been a bad accident, at least one fatality, numerous injuries.” The admitting clerk in the emergency room made a weary sound. “We have just one ER doc on staff tonight.” She paused. “You have more experience than anyone else. Could you please come?”
John didn’t hesitate. “I’m on my way.”
He walked through the doors of the emergency room twenty minutes later. By then the ambulances had brought in both the injured and the deceased. It was standard procedure. Victims were brought to the hospital, a final determination was made, and the coroner was notified. That would give the nurses a chance to clean up the bodies, cover them as much as possible, and notify the next of kin.
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In Bloomington, fatal accidents were uncommon. When they happened, they rocked the emergency-room staff. John could tell that was the case as soon as he walked in. His colleagues were hurrying about in what looked like an organized state of shock.
The admitting clerk who had called John filled him in on the details. “A van full of kids was coming out of a strip mall. The driver turned right, and two seconds later a full-size pickup driven by some young guy and coming from the other direction crossed the center divider. Hit them head-on.”
John cringed. A van full of kids. “Teenagers in both vehicles?”
“No.” Her face was pale. “The van had four young kids, six to twelve. Two from one family, two from another.”
A groan came from John. He leaned on the counter and tried to imagine the way those families’ lives had changed in a single evening. “What about the truck driver?”
“We don’t have the reading yet, but he was loaded. Drunk way beyond the legal limit.”
“He lived?”
The clerk made a face. “He’s fine. Naturally.” She picked up a stack of papers and straightened them, her movements sharp, frustrated. Her eyes found John’s again. “The fatality is a little boy, a six-year-old boy. The twelve-year-old is in a coma; she might not make it. They’re the worst, and they’re from two dif ferent families. The other two kids are in serious condition.”
“Thanks.” John rolled up his sleeves and entered the emer gency area through the double doors. Inside, he washed his hands, taking extra time the way he always did. The news made his stomach hurt. It was why he couldn’t have spent a career in the ER, even though he had started there. Back when the kids were younger, every child who came in on a stretcher had the face of Kari or the eyes of Luke.
They were the age of Ashley or Erin or Brooke. One of them. And now that he had grand children, it was no different.
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He felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned.
“John.” The ER doctor handed over a chart. “Thanks for coming. I’ve got a girl clinging to life, two kids in serious condition, and a mother in critical. I need you in with the mother. She’s got a bleed somewhere, losing pressure fast.
A transfusion’s been ordered.”
“How’s she look?” John fell into step beside his friend and one of the most respected ER doctors on staff.
“She might make it. We knocked her out.” The doctor kept his pace fast as they headed down a short hallway to the triage area. “She was hysterical, shouting something about auditions for Annie.”
“Auditions for…” John looked at his friend, his heart rate suddenly twice as fast. “That’s the next Christian Kids Theater show. Were the kids coming from auditions?”
“I don’t know. The woman’s quiet now so we can work on her.”
They reached the room. John had to know if there was a connection. “What about next of kin?”
The doctor read the notes on his clipboard. “I’ve got the woman’s husband on his way in from Indianapolis. When we reached him, we were able to get identities on the other kids. Just contacted the parents, and they’re on their way.”
John looked in at the still woman on the gurney. From down the hall, lab tech rushed off the elevator with two bags of blood. John patted his friend’s shoulder. The man was a regular at church. “Looks like it’s time to pray.”
“I’ve been talking to Him nonstop.” He brought his lips together and shook his head. “Nights like this there’s no other option.”
John didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His friend had been there when he’d gone through the tough times with Landon, who had nearly died after being hurt in a fire, and with
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little Hayley, after her drowning accident. They exchanged a last look, and John entered the hospital room.
The tech was preparing the blood transfusion. John approached the woman, going through the initial procedures, checking her stats and her chart. Only then did he take a closer look at her. Something about her was familiar, and he considered what his friend had just said—the woman had mentioned something about Annie auditions. He checked her chart and felt his heart do a stutter step. The woman’s daughter had played a lead part in Tom Sawyer, the recent summer production.
If her daughter died, the tragedy unfolding in the ER would have a wide-reaching impact. In fact, it would very likely bring the community of Bloomington to its knees.
Katy and Rhonda hurried through the doors of the emergency room. Katy couldn’t believe it was happening. A car accident with injured CKT kids? Something like this had never happened before, and Katy could barely breathe by the time they tore into the lobby, desperate for answers.
The call had come from Bethany Allen, the new CKT area coordinator, and the news was bad, horrible. From what Bethany had said, after auditions Alice Stryker had gone out for pizza and ice cream with her two kids and two other children from another CKT family. They were on their way home when they were hit head-on by a drunk driver.
Alice Stryker’s husband was on his way to the hospital from a conference he’d been at in Indianapolis. He’d called Bethany asking for prayers and support.
Now Katy rushed to the front desk. “Hi.” She spread her hands on the counter.
“Friends of ours were brought in a little while ago. They were in a car accident. The woman’s name is Alice Stry—”
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KAREN KINGSBU RY
“Katy!” a voice screamed from somewhere behind her, near the entrance.
She turned and saw the Hanovers running across the lobby. Their kids, Ben and Brandy, had been with Alice Stryker in the van.
Katy caught Mrs. Hanover in her arms and hugged her. “We just got here.”
The woman behind the desk stood. “You’re the Hanovers?”
“Yes.” Mr. Hanover took a step closer. “Our kids.., are they okay? They said to get right down here.”
“Why don’t you follow me.” She looked at Katy and Rhonda. “We can only take immediate family back. Maybe you could wait in the lobby.”
Katy felt stiff and unnatural. Her heart was racing, as if it were too afraid to slow down and listen to the news, whatever the news was. She gave a final look to Mrs. Hanover, then led Rhonda to a vinyl sofa in the waiting area. Katy sat down next to her. Her arms were shaking as she pressed her elbows into her knees and covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
It was then, before Rhonda could say a word, that they heard the scream. A shrill, piercing scream that exploded beyond the walls of the reception area and filled the waiting room.
Katy’s hands fell to her lap, and she stared at Rhonda. But there was no need to say anything. The scream almost certainly belonged to Mrs. Hanover, and a person didn’t cry out like that unless…
The scream came again, and this time it was a series of words. “No… no, please no!”
A pain started in Katy’s chest and burned a trail around to her back. “Was that Mrs. Hanover?” she asked Rhonda, her voice scratchy.
Rhonda didn’t say anything. She only stared at her lap and 56
FORGIVEN
shook her head. She was still shaking it when a doctor came out and took steady steps in their direction.
Katy grabbed onto the vinyl sofa seat. “He’s coming toward US.”
“No.” Rhonda lifted her eyes. They were wide and unblink ing, scared to death.
When the doctor reached them he said, “Katy Hart?”
She wanted to run, wanted to get in her car and speed back to the theater, back to the way things had been four hours earlier with all the kids in one place, singing and listening to their peers and dreaming of a role in Annie. Instead she looked up and said, “I’m Katy.”
“Well…” The doctor crossed his arms, his lips a straight line. “Mr. Stryker and the Hanovers have asked me to talk to you.”