Page 77 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

I’d missed three calls from a number I didn’t recognize. There was a voicemail, but before I could listen, Poppy caught my attention.

“Okay, Dad. We’ll be right there.”

“What?” I shot to my feet. “What happened?”

“Finn was in an accident.”

“Any news?” Bridget asked as she came back into the waiting room with a cup of coffee.

I shook my head, my eyes staring unfocused at the wall across from me. Max was in the chair to my right. Kali my left. We’d been at the hospital for six hours, waiting to hear news about Finn.

The first hour went by in a flash. Poppy and I left the restaurant in a dazed panic. As politely as possible, we asked the customers to get the hell out, taped a sign to the front door, locked everything down and raced in different directions.

Poppy came straight to the hospital where they’d brought Finn.

I went to Alcott to get my kids.

Max and Kali didn’t have a summer camp this week. It was one of the few weeks over summer vacation where they didn’t have anything planned, so they were hanging out with us at work. They preferred going to Alcott, because the loft above Finn’s office was basically play central.

It had a large television and a wide variety of movies the kids enjoyed. There was also an Xbox. When they came with me to the restaurant, they got bored. I gave them easy tasks to help out, and they did love eating there more than at Finn’s, but I couldn’t compete with video games. Even when they had to get up extra early to go in with Finn, they didn’t care. They’d fall asleep on his couch and then wake up to play.

So we’d arranged for them to spend this week at Alcott.

They’d been there for the accident. I hated that.

One of the regular crew members had called in sick, so Finn had asked them to stay inside while he went out to the yard to help load up materials for a job site.

Max and Kali had been in the office while Finn was loading up a bucketful of large landscaping rocks in a skid steer. They heard the shouts when a rock toppled out of the raised bucket and landed in the path of the machine’s wheels. They heard the screams when the loader hit the rock, lurched forward and threw Finn to the ground when the seat belt latch malfunctioned.

Even though everyone hurried to get Finn free of the equipment, his body had been crushed under its front wheels. And Max and Kali watched as the ambulance sped away, their father loaded into the back.

When I arrived, Alcott was in chaos. All of the crew members were in the yard. Five of the men had blood staining their pants.

I took one glance at them and nearly retched, but I pushed it aside to focus on finding my kids.

Most of the people were rushing around, putting things away, but a few were grouped together with shocked and stunned looks on their faces.

Bridget was there, talking with two police officers. Gerry, Finn’s favorite foreman, who’d worked at Alcott since the early years, was on the phone, pacing near the skid steer that was still in the yard.

I didn’t spare any of them more than a glance. I parked, hopped out of the Jeep and ran.

Max and Kali were standing outside, holding one another. Only one man was bothering to help with the kids. I didn’t know him, but apparently he’d been standing by Max and Kali, watching over them until I arrived.

The second they saw me, Kali and Max sprinted my way, tears running down their precious faces.

After a tight hug, I loaded them up and raced across town to the hospital to join Finn’s parents, Poppy, and Cole. He took Kali and Max to the cafeteria while the doctor explained the severity of Finn’s accident.

Then we all sat in the waiting room and . . . waited.

Finn had been stabilized and taken immediately into surgery to repair the damage done to his internal organs. They’d been at it for over five hours.

He had injuries trailing down the right side of his body. Broken arm. Broken ribs. Broken pelvis. Broken leg. From the initial intake assessment, the doctors suspected one, if not both of his lungs had been punctured and his liver lacerated. Half of his body was broken. Had he been tossed one foot in the other direction, the skid steer would have crushed his skull and he would have died instantly.

The chances he still wouldn’t survive this accident were staggering.

After that first hour in the waiting room, time slowed to a near stop. Every second was torture as we sat in a crowded room full of people I didn’t know. Full of people I didn’t want to see.

My hair felt heavy on my neck and shoulders, so I slipped my arms free of the kids and plucked a hair tie from my wrist. It was black. I piled my hair on top of my head, ready to wind it up, but when I stretched the hair tie wide, it broke.