Roz Fox - Married in Haste

Abby realized the futility of trying to ask another question. She stepped into the teeming lobby and eventually did sit on the very edge of a chair. She called to let Raina know she’d made it, and got through after numerous attempts. Her friend still had her nephews and Marlo’s girls. How long, Abby wondered after telling Raina goodbye, would the clerk’s “minute” be? Her stomach was jittery, and anxiety nibbled away at her calm attitude. But of course she wasn’t alone in her fear. The lobby was filled with pacing, terrified relatives.

Half an hour later, a volunteer in a pale-yellow uniform showed up. At a word from the clerk at the desk, the woman turned and sought out Abby—who rose at once. She rushed to meet the volunteer, and repeated her request. Her guide in yellow spun on soundless white shoes, striding quickly along a bustling warren of halls. She walked so fast, Abby barely kept pace. As they sped around the turns, Abby was actually glad she’d been given an escort. After one sharp, right-angled turn down a dead-end hall, Abby’s helper flung open a door and motioned Abby into a dimly lit room. Squinting, Abby stopped short the moment she realized she’d entered a chapel.

Her teeth began to chatter. She backed up, shrieking No, no, no inside her head. Her mind refused to accept the news she was about to receive. “No!” she shouted, and snatched the front of the woman’s cheery uniform.

Frightened, the volunteer wrested the material from Abby’s clutching hands.

Because her already wobbly knees simply gave way, Abby fell heavily onto a padded bench. Nearly blinded by tears, she stared at a wooden cross rising stark and silent at the front of the room, backlit by a pale, shimmering light. Wanting—needing—to run, but unable to make her legs function, Abby shrank from an approaching man. His kind but controlled expression, coupled with a black jacket and white clerical collar, declared him an enemy. Abby heard an awful noise gush from her throat, a scream of denial ripped from her very soul. Shivering, she shut her eyes, covered her ears and rocked to ease the pain in her heart. It thundered so loudly, she missed the name the man offered along with his hand.

“Easy, Ms. Drummond.” Sitting beside her, he pried apart her icy hands. “Abigail Drummond?” he asked again, forcing Abby to open her eyes and really look at him through a veil of tears.

She nodded, even though words refused to form on her numb lips.

“According to Dr. Nelson, your brother, the Reverend Drummond, fought to hang on until you could get here. His chest injuries would have felled a lesser man at the scene of the accident. With God’s help, he managed to attract the attention of a firefighter sent to assess the rubble of the bridge. I understand Elliot’s only request was for the fireman to help his wife and son. Unfortunately—” the man paused, “Mrs. Drummond succumbed in the aid car as paramedics tried desperately to stabilize her breathing.”

Blair and Elliot, both gone. “No. Nooo!” Abby’s lungs refused to expand and contract as she attempted to haul in air. The priest plucked several tissues from a box and thrust them into her hand. A heaviness invaded her limbs and the glowing cross receded until it was a mere pinprick of light. Then it loomed large again as her burning throat swallowed her curse against an unmerciful God.

The priest clumsily patted her bent shoulders.

“Sam?” Abby whispered at last, twisting the tissues into wet clumps. “My brother’s son? How’s he? Dr. Galloway…uh…the senior Dr. Galloway was to evaluate Sam.”

“The boy is in surgery. Reverend Drummond gave verbal consent. That’s not how the hospital normally operates, but considering this tragedy, our chief of staff accepted your brother’s word. Ms. Drummond, did you come here alone? May I call someone for you? Your parents, perhaps? Or a sibling?”

“No one. They’re all gone. All but me.” She shook her head and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m all that’s left of Elliot’s family. And Blair’s.” Burying her face in her hands, Abigail gave in to the weight of anguish pressing in on her. She sobbed, great gulping sobs, denying everything this man had said. “Someone’s made a horrible mistake. Elliot and Blair’s identification could’ve been mixed up at the bridge. I’m sure—”

“There’s no mistake.” The priest bowed his head and began to pray aloud. The words meant to comfort Abby landed on deaf ears.

Before he’d finished his prayer—in what later would seem a true miracle—Ben Galloway stood in the door of this out-of-the-way chapel. His recognizable voice penetrated the darkness that cocooned Abby. Half rising, she cried his name. “Ben. Ben?” Disbelief warred with her abject sorrow.

Ben wedged himself past the Episcopal priest. Murmuring softly, he reached for her.

“Ben! Oh, Ben.” She threw herself into his arms. “The bo…ys,” she cried. “How will I ever break this terrible news? I know what it’s like to lose both parents. They’re so much younger than Elliot and I were when our parents died.” Her voice became hysterical at the end. “How did you know to come here? Did Raina contact you?”

Tightening his hold, Ben rocked Abby from side to side. What he didn’t say—couldn’t bring himself to say—was that he’d have to impart the same unbelievable news to his nieces. Their mother was dead. Even though his own heart had shattered, Ben couldn’t tell her about Marlo, which would only add to Abby’s crushing grief.

But neither could he lie and say he’d come solely to comfort her. When the police had contacted Ben about finding Marlo’s car under a broken pillar at the viaduct, his chief of staff ordered him off duty. At first he’d planned to phone his father—which was how Kirk would handle notification were the shoe on the other foot. But when Ben attempted to call him, he learned that his dad had scrubbed for Sam Drummond’s surgery. He was also told about Sam’s folks. The decision to drive to Mercy General was Ben’s.

Devastated, he’d guessed correctly that Abby would be doubly so. As strong a woman as she was, Ben knew instinctively that it’d be like reopening old wounds, like reliving her parents’ accident. Feeling Abby shake in his arms, Ben didn’t regret his spur-of-the-moment decision to make the harrowing journey between the hospitals.

The priest’s pager went off. “Sorry, I’m needed elsewhere,” he murmured, lightly nudging Ben’s arm. “Sir, may I leave Ms. Drummond in your care?”

Ben’s answer was to tighten his arms around the still-crying woman.

“Uh, if I can be of any further assistance, please leave word at the front desk. They can usually find me. Today,” the priest said with a sigh, “it may take longer. Ms. Drummond, I hope you will one day take comfort in the fact your brother and his wife are reunited with their parents and their Creator.”

Unable to speak, Abby buried her face in Ben’s shirtfront.

“Thank you.” Ben shook the priest’s hand from an awkward angle. “I’m Dr. Ben Galloway, by the way. I practice mainly at Children’s Health. Abby and I both live in West Seattle. Mercy was the closest triage hospital to the accident.”

“I understand. Good luck to you both.” He shook his head. “As prepared as everyone thought we were after the big quake four years ago, this one caught us flatfooted. It’s more important than ever for us to get in step with God’s larger plan. He expects those of us left behind to carry on his work. Remember he’s a merciful God.” Giving Abby’s arm a last pat, the priest exited the chapel.

Abby stirred. She hated to leave the shelter of Ben’s arms. But the priest’s parting words rankled. “Elliot said almost that exact same thing to me at Mom and Dad’s funeral.”