She helps me off the table and I finish adjusting my clothing as she turns the lights back on, and then Jamie and I are alone in the hallway. Fluorescent bulbs bathe everything garish white, and Jamie’s shoes squeak on the linoleum while mine clack noisily. There’s a strong smell of antiseptic.
A male nurse appears. “This way, please.”
We follow him through the maze of hallways to another room, this one not in the emergency department. We wait in silence for whatever is happening next.
There’s no sound in the small, cold hospital room. Even my own heartbeat seems muted.
Jamie looks at me as if trying to find something to say.
I give a small shake of my head. “Not here, not now. Let’s talk, but later.”
“Elyse, I—”
“Jamie, please, let’s just get through with this whole hospital business and go home. We’ll talk at home.”
After what feels like two hours, but was probably less than half an hour, the original ER doctor bustles in, leans against the door and toys with his stethoscope. “So. We found a heartbeat, got some measurements. Things look great. I would’ve liked an X-ray on your neck, but I’m confident it’s just a case of moderate whiplash, so it’s not really serious enough that I’m willing to order an X-ray anyway. Just take it easy, maybe put a hot pad on it, or some Ben-Gay. If it hurts bad enough that you have a hard time sleeping, you could probably get away with a low dose of aspirin, but I’d recommend against it unless absolutely necessary.”
“I’m fine. I can tough it out.” I try for a smile, but don’t quite manage it.
“Do you have a primary, or an OB we can send the ultrasound results to?”
I sigh. “I…I have a primary. Dr. Pritchard in Clayton. But no, no OB. I, um—I wasn’t expecting this, so I haven’t seen my OB since my last routine checkup.”
“Well, I’d get with her and get started on prenatal care vitamins and all that.”
I nod, another automatic response—I’m shell-shocked right now and operating on autopilot. “Yeah, yes. Of course.”
“Do you have any questions for me?” He smirks. “Aside from ‘how did this happen,’ I mean. I trust you’re aware of that, regardless of your obvious shock.”
I just nod again, and then blink. “Um. No, no questions. I just want to go home and try to process this.”
“Well, you’re free to go. You were never admitted, so there’s no discharge papers.” He eyes Jamie. “You’re driving?”
Jamie nods, as shell-shocked as I am. “Yes.”
“Good. Because she’s in no shape to be driving anywhere.”
“I’ve got her.”
The doctor’s smile is sympathetic. “Are you okay yourself?”
Jamie nods, stands up, visibly shaking off and putting aside his shock. “Yes. I’m okay. Thank you, Doctor.” He holds out his hand to me. “Ready, Elyse?”
Without thinking, I nod and take his hand, let him help me to my feet. His hand stays in mine as we exit the room and wind through the hallways to the checkout desk, where I pay my co-pay and then let Jamie lead me out to the waiting room.
“Stay here,” he says, pausing by the exit. “I’ll grab the truck and bring it around.”
I settle gratefully down onto the bench. “Okay.”
In less than a minute, his truck squeals to a stop under the ER awning and he’s in front of me, taking both of my hands and helping me outside, and up into his truck. He even leans across me to buckle me in. Shock has worn away to numbness, and a little voice in the back of my head warns it is only temporary.
More tense, resounding silence as we exit the hospital parking lot; but within a couple of minutes we’re leaving Hanover, going from a wide, relatively suburban four-lane thoroughfare onto the narrow, quiet, dark, tree-lined rural two-lane highway that is the more direct route between Hanover and Clayton.
The only sound is the crunch of Jamie’s truck tires on the road, and the occasional frog croak or cricket chirp through the open windows.
A Jason Aldean song murmurs low on the radio, and Jamie hums along.
He drives with his left hand, his right wrist hanging over the column-mounted gear shifter, fingers twitching to the beat now and then. His brow is wrinkled, the corners of his eyes tightened—his telltale sign of stress, I’m learning.
