The Dead of Winter (Seasons of Jefferson: Book 2) (5 page)

“Where’s my phone?”

“Why?” Jenna fidgets nervously with the pen and clipboard she found hanging at the end of my bed. “Caden, please don’t tell them I told you about the shells. I didn’t mean to let it slip.”

“I’m not telling anyone anything. I just need to talk to Brody. I have to know what he’s doing to protect my sister.”

“Don’t worry. Protecting Kaitlyn is all he’s been doing for days. In fact, he’s with her right now. He hasn’t left her side for one minute. He won’t let her go anywhere alone. You don’t need to call him. He’ll be here soon, and then you can question him all you want.” Jenna pauses as she bites nervously at the inside of her cheek. “But, I don’t think he has any more answers than we do.”

For the briefest moment I’m glad my friends have been protecting me. The added stress of thinking Pistol might still be out there actually hurts. My pounding heart forces blood into my stitches. They painfully tug at the throbbing incision on my injured arm. The sheer panic I’ve yet to experience since I woke up in the hospital has suddenly come to visit, and it’s awakening nerves I never knew I had. I’m completely on edge. When the door creaks open, I dart into the wheelchair, knowing it’s time for our show to begin. She grabs a blanket from the bed and begins tucking it around me. Looking up, I find Kaitlyn and Brody standing in the doorway.

My sister’s eyes meet mine before she begins to speak. With a hint of surprise in her voice, she apologizes, “Oh, I’m sorry, nurse. I thought my brother was alone.”

“No need to apologize.” Jenna finishes tucking in the blanket and turns toward my sister. “It’s just me.”

I watch Kaitlyn’s eyebrows travel up her forehead. “What’s going on here? Why are you dressed like that? Is this all part of your
big plan
?” One by one, the questions roll, as she makes her way toward me. When she reaches the wheelchair, her eyes zero in on mine. “Why does he look so pale? He’s sweating, Jenna. You know, if a real nurse sees you in here, she’ll pass right on by. He may not get the help he needs!” She lifts my chin, studying my eyes. “Are you okay? You look worse than yesterday. What’s going on?”

“You tell me, T! What
is
going on? I want the truth, and I want it now.”

“I’m sorry, Kaitlyn.” Jenna rushes to my sister’s side. “I didn’t mean to say anything, I swear.”

“What did you say to him? You know he’s still recovering. He doesn’t need any more stress.”

“I know about my gun and the bullet casings. I know Pistol is missing, and I know we’re all in danger.”

Kaitlyn’s eyes grow wide as she begins to slowly shake her head at Jenna. She’s clearly upset with her lack of discretion. Her glare pierces the room, and she bites at her thumbnail the way she always does when she’s angry. I use her silence as an opportunity to continue my plea to get some answers.

“We have each other, but what about my girlfriend? She’s going through this alone. I have to see her
now
. She needs me.” Trying to contain my fury, I growl through my fastened teeth, “Now, will one of you please take me to her!?!”

Concern overtakes my sister’s expression as she shrinks back toward the door. She looks at Brody as he protectively pulls her into his side. He kisses the top of her head and whispers something into her ear. She takes a deep breath and looks back in my direction. I can tell by the grimace on her face that I’ve taken her by surprise. When she came here to help me, she had no idea how worked up I’d be. I’m ashamed of the way I blasted her as soon as she walked through the door. I mentally punch myself in the face, angry with the way I treated her. She looks hurt. Hopefully she’s still willing to help me after the way I just yelled at her.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I just can’t handle not knowing what’s going on. Enough secrets, T. I’m desperate. I need your help. Can you guys please take me down to see Peyton?”

The tension in the room is palpable. Pleading for help, my eyes bounce back and forth among all of my friends. Jenna looks to each of us, finally breaking the silence, “Okay, here’s my plan. Kaitlyn. Brody. Did you guys come up with a way to distract Peyton’s mom?”

Kaitlyn nods, “I think so, but are you sure this is a good idea? If we get caught, what will happen to us? Isn’t there another way to see her? One that doesn’t involve sneaking into her room? I’m sure her parents will come around if we just wait a couple more days.”

“No more waiting,” I shake my head at my sister. “Jenna, go on. This needs to happen today. What are we going to do?”

“I’ve stopped by her room a couple times, trying to get a look inside. There’s an empty bed, and I don’t think she’s sharing a room with anyone. I scoped it out again before I got here, just to make sure. When I peeked through the window, the extra bed was still made. I’ve come up with a story to get you into it for a bit. That way, you’ll be right next to her. The only problem is, in order to actually
see
Peyton, we need to get her mom out of the room for a minute.”

Yeah, right. This sounds impossible.
“There’s no way. This is never going to work.”

“Trust me. We can do this. I’m going to push you down there in the wheelchair. I don’t think they’ll recognize me in this outfit, but no matter what happens, just keep your face toward the ground. We can’t let anyone see who you are. This will work, I swear. Once you’re in the room, I’ll get you situated on the bed and make sure the curtain is closed. You’re going to need to wait until we can get Mrs. Carter away from the room. Promise me you’ll be patient. We don’t need security called on us. Do you think you can handle it?”

I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly as I visualize how to play my role. At this point, I’ll try anything to see her. “I’m ready. Let’s do it!”

“Kaitlyn and Brody, are you guys ready? You’re a big part of this. I’ll text you when he’s all settled. That’s when you guys will come down and get Momma Bear out of the room.” Relief hits me when they begin nodding their heads in agreement. “Okay then. Stay here until you hear from me.”

My stomach begins to grind and churn at the thought of sneaking down the hall into room 83. Maybe it’s just the pain medicine I’ve taken mixed with the Gold Rush burger, but I think I’m going to be sick. My cheeks are beginning to quiver. Trying to swallow down the thick saliva, I continue fixating on the potential hazards that lie ahead. I have no idea what will happen if we’re caught.
Does this small town hospital even have security? Why are they guarding her from us? Do they think we’re the reason she almost died? Or, maybe they’re trying to protect us from something they don’t think we can handle. Is she missing a limb? Is she tragically disfigured?
My mind is plagued with “what ifs.” I can’t rationalize why they haven’t let us in to see her.

Pushing all of the disturbing thoughts aside, I gather enough nerve to give Jenna the go ahead. “Okay, we can go now.” Even though we’re just five doors apart and we won’t have to pass the nurses station, my biggest fear is that a real nurse or doctor will spot us. Or even worse, come into the room and see me in the bed next to Peyton. Jenna, on the other hand, doesn’t appear to be scared at all. She seems to be enjoying her part in the risky, little adventure that she’s orchestrated.

“Relax. I’ve got everything under control. Don’t forget most of the staff is at the wedding. There aren’t that many people to dodge. I’ve thought this through, and it’s going to work. Trust me. Just remember, don’t let anyone see your face. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Concern etches itself on my sister’s face, as she warns, “Be careful, guys.”

Jenna nods, and begins to wheel me toward the door, when Brody steps in front of me. I watch him peek his head through the doorway to make sure the coast is clear. He turns to all of us and gives a thumbs up.

I watch the green tiles turn into a blur as Jenna rolls the wheelchair through the hallway. I have to remember to keep my face down. As we roll over each square of tile, I work to pull the grout lines into focus, counting each one.
Click, click, click, click,
the wheels of the chair roll rhythmically across the floor. Square foot by square foot, we make our way down the hall. I keep my mind occupied with the counting. If I allow myself to think about anything other than the lines, I may lose my burger all over the shiny, green tiles. Jenna gently nudges me as she whispers, “Walkin’ the mile, walkin’ the green mile.” My stomach flips from the thought of the scene. She knows how much that damn movie upset me. I would totally elbow her right now to shut her up, but I can’t move my arm. Leave it to Jenna to take a serious situation and make a joke out of it.
And what’s with that reference anyway? Thanks for reminding me that someone down the hall probably wants to kill me.
My nerves flare once again.

The wheelchair slows to a stop as I listen to the knock of a wooden door. “Don’t look up,” she reminds me. When the door swings open, Jenna’s voice drips with a sweet southern accent. “How y’all doing today? Sorry to disturb you, but I need to move this patient into that empty bed for a little while. His roommate just woke up from surg’ry and with all the moanin’ and groanin’ this sweet fella couldn’t get any rest. Don’t worry, we’ll only leave him here for a bit, but this is the only bed left on this wing. How ‘bout if I pull the curtain shut so you won’t have to watch him snore? Hmm?”

Thinking about that black, bobbed wig swinging to the hilariously fake accent, I try not to choke out a laugh. I appreciate the fact that Jenna has completely submerged herself in the role and is taking on all of the attention while I get to hide under this blanket. My tension eases when I hear Peyton’s mom reply, “No problem. My daughter’s been sleeping most of the day. It should be nice and quiet in here.”

“Thank you ma’am,” Jenna replies sweetly as she rolls me through the doorway toward the bed. She turns the wheelchair around so I’m facing away from Peyton’s side of the room. After pulling back the sheets, she helps me into the bed, slightly covering my face with the blanket. “I’ll be back to check on you later, son.” She bends down and squeezes my hand, leaning into my ear and whispering, “Good luck.” Those are her last words before I hear the screeching metal sound of the curtain being pulled around to shield me from Peyton’s mother.

The door opens and closes. My body tenses as I hear footsteps slowly walk across the room and stop nearby. My stomach flips with the thought that only a thin piece of material separates the two of us. She’s so close, I can sense her energy filtering through the curtain. One little, curious peek from Mrs. Carter could blow my entire world apart. I can’t risk being exposed. I work to stay still, despite the fact that I need to shift my weight to relieve the pain in my arm.

Hold your breath. Stay still.
I pull the blanket from my face, and notice the silhouette of Peyton’s mom standing at the foot of my bed.
Why is she standing there? Is she suspicious? Breathe. Through your nose. Don’t make a sound. Breathe.
I remain frozen beneath the covers as I talk myself through the anxiety. I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m discovered.
Why can’t she just leave? I need to get up and see Peyton. Leave.
I pray.
When is Jenna’s plan going to kick in? Hurry up, Kaitlyn. Come get Mrs. Carter out of here.
I repeat these words over and over in my mind.

After what feels like twenty minutes, I hear a knock at the door and thank God when Mrs. Carter walks away from my bed, allowing me the chance to shift positions and take in a much needed breath. I listen intently as the door creaks open, and I hear my sister’s voice softly drift into the room. “Good evening, Mrs. Carter. We’re sorry to disturb you, but we wanted to check on Peyton again, and …”

With a low, stern tone, I hear Peyton’s mom interrupt, “I thought we made it clear the first three times you came, that Peyton isn’t taking visitors.” There is a brief silence.
This isn’t going to work
.
I’m never going to get over there to see her.
Disappointment stabs at my heart. I close my eyes and focus my attention back to Mrs. Carter as she pulls in an audible breath. When she begins to speak again, I hear her voice soften.

“Okay, how about this? You can let Caden and the others know that Peyton woke up yesterday. She’s still out of it from her brain surgery, but they relieved the swelling, and she is stable at the moment. She’s on a lot of medication, and she hasn’t moved or spoken. To tell you the truth, she’s not out of the woods yet. Aside from drowning, she took a pretty severe blow to the head. It was a lot for one little girl to endure. The doctors don’t know if she’ll make a full recovery. It’s just too early to tell. Look, Kaitlyn, we don’t want to add any more shock or stress to an already volatile situation. I hope you understand. I’m sorry if this is hard on you and your friends, but I have to protect my daughter.”

At the words
brain surgery
, adrenaline spikes through every nerve ending in my body. I gasp and stiffen, making the bed squeak and the covers ruffle. I see Mrs. Carter’s silhouette flinch at the sound of my sudden movement, and watch her figure turn toward my bed.
Think fast.
I let out a small snore, trying to disguise my shocked movement as restless sleep.
Dear God. Brain surgery? What did I do to my girlfriend?
Now more than ever, I have to figure out how to see her. I have to make sure she’s going to be okay.

“I understand, Mrs. Carter. Thank you for giving us an update. I know this has been awful for you, and we’re praying for Peyton and your family. We also came to give you this.” There is a pause as I watch the silhouette of Mrs. Carter’s arm travel toward Kaitlyn’s outreached hand. My sister continues. “This is my brother’s pocket knife. It’s pretty special to Peyton. She gave it to him for his birthday. She was holding it when I found her in the river. She insisted on keeping it. She told me she used it to cut herself out of the seat belt. I’ve been saving it for her until we could see her. I hope it brings her some kind of comfort to have it back.”

I hear Mrs. Carter sniffle, followed by a long stillness. The deafening silence between the two of them allows me to focus on my own reaction to the heartbreaking image of a drowning Peyton struggling to cut herself out of my submerged truck. It makes me sick to think I was too weak to help her myself.
I let her down. I let us fly over that cliff. I almost let her die. I wasn’t even there to save her. What kind of a boyfriend … no, what kind of a human being am I?
I listen to the greasy dinner grind in my stomach. The churning burger pushes a small amount of bile up my throat. I force it back down, covering my mouth to keep it from coming up. The heat of my body’s furnace begins to roar. Sweat jumps from the flames and begins to escape down my forehead.
Oh no. I’m going to be sick.