This is not the official cover for this book but it will look similar
I just wanted to share part of my next book, still in the editing process. There will be some changes done to what you're reading here but it does give you an idea of where this story will take you. Could you imagine getting a call like this? Hearing those devastating words, your child has been in an accident? I wouldn't want to hear them either. But Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds did and this story about their daughter's fight to survive! I don't think anyone really knows what a person experiences while in a coma but this is my thought. If you've had your own experience, I'd love to hear it. Thank you!!
Mr. Reynolds rushed to the phone as it reached its fourth ring. He
grabbed the receiver from the wall-attached phone and answered, not expecting
any particular person. “Hello.” His voice was calm, deep, and southern. He was
a hard working farmer who never took a day off in his life. He was proud, took
care of his family, and hadn’t a single enemy except for a few varmints living
in the corn fields. He had rough hands to prove it. He started his family late
in his life but he had no regrets. He held the phone against his ear as he
pulled up his pants. He was beginning to lose a little weight and they were
loose on him.
“Mr. Reynolds?” The voice wasn’t familiar.
“Yes, that’s me. What can I do you for?”
The voice on the other end of the line was very anxious with news any
parent would dread. His only child was in an accident and she was
unconscious. She had found this phone
number in her wallet in case of emergency. It was Mr. Reynolds’ idea and he was
now glad he had told her to do that.
Mr. Reynolds’ voice shook as his hand began to tremble. Katy Lynne was
his only child, how could this be happening to her? He glanced at his wife as
she washed the dishes. She heard his voice and grabbed the towel, rushing to
his side.
“What’s happening?” she cried out. She knew something was wrong but
didn’t know what.
He wouldn’t answer as he listened to the woman’s terrible details.
Mrs. Reynolds was a robust woman, in her fifties, and proud to be a
farmer’s wife. She always kept her hair tied up in a bun to keep it out of her
way when doing her own chores. A strand of hair always seemed to fall in all
the right places. She pulled one strand back behind her ear as she grabbed the
phone from his hand. “Who is this? Johnny, are you foolin’ around?” She
listened to the woman’s news. “We’ll be
right there. Honey, go start the car. I’ll get directions.” She grabbed a small
piece of paper and wrote everything down as he rushed out the door. She could
hear the car’s engine as she scribbled everything down. It was late but it
didn’t matter to her, she had to go see her baby.
Grouner Town was a few hours away but Mr. Reynolds shaved most of the
time off by speeding. The old country roads were deserted at this hour. They
passed the intersection where three cars were blocking the road and Mrs.
Reynolds feared the worst. The sheriff let them pass, giving them directions to
the town’s hospital. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing. And his hands wouldn’t
stop shaking.
“Please, let her be all right,” she prayed repeatedly as the car sprinted
down the street.
Mr. Reynolds parked the car, leaving the engine on as they both rushed
inside.
“Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds, your daughter is in surgery now. You may wait
here.”
“Is she going to be all right?” Mrs. Reynolds asked.
“I’m afraid this is serious. I will keep you informed. Please, if you
would have a seat.”
A young woman paced the floor in the waiting room as the parents entered.
She was wearing a bandage on her right shoulder and her arm was in a sling.
“Oh, my God, Stacey,” Mrs. Reynolds cried out and ran over to her
daughter’s friend.
“I’m all right, Mrs. Reynolds. The bullet went straight through. I’m so
sorry.” Her eyes were swollen and red from crying. Stacey’s mother was sitting
down in the corner, speaking to someone over the phone.
“What happened?” Mrs. Reynolds asked.
“We were on our way home from the university,” Stacey began to say. She
turned and looked at Mr. Reynolds. “Sir, my dad is at the check-in station. He
gave them as much information as he could but I think you’ll need to give them
more.”
“Thank you, Stacey. I’ll be right back.” Mr. Reynolds left the room.
Stacey continued to tell Mrs. Reynolds the horrible ordeal that had
occurred earlier in the evening. “The accident had already happened and we stopped
to see what was going on. We didn’t know there was a man with a gun. He seemed
so upset and he started firing at us.” Even though it had happened hours
before, her voice was still shaking. She sat down to collect herself.
Mrs. Reynolds sat down next to her and held her. She looked over at
Stacey’s mother, still on the phone. Her voice echoed in the empty waiting
room.
The hospital was old and small but it served its purpose, housing the
sick and dying. The small number of staff could be heard in the hallway,
running here and there tending to the patients. Their footsteps echoed in the
hall.
The waiting dragged on through morning. As the birds sang outside the
window, a doctor walked into the room with both fathers.
Mrs. Reynolds stood up.
“Katy Lynne is out of surgery and she is in the recovery room.”
“How is she?” Mrs. Reynolds asked. Her voice was anxious and shaky.
“The bullet made a clean shot through the Occipital Lobe. Luckily it
missed both the Basal Ganglia and the Cerebellum. We were able to remove the
bullet but there was damage to her brain. We can’t be sure how extensive the
damage is until she wakes up—if she wakes up.”
“What do you mean if she wakes up?” Mrs. Reynolds asked.
“She’s
in a coma.”
