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“Oh God.” I squeeze my eyes closed, unable to even imagine the horror she felt that night.
She sniffles and continues. “Tim was unconscious when the medics got there. He woke up a few minutes later. He had a concussion and a fractured pelvis. Lots of cuts and bruises. But he was okay. Chloe, though…” Abby’s crying as she says the words. “Her injuries were worse. They did everything they could, though. They put her on life support and tried to relieve the swelling in her brain. When I walked through that door and saw my little girl in that hospital bed…it was the worst moment of my life. Nothing will ever compare to that. I would’ve given my life for hers if I could’ve.”
Abby takes a few deep breaths between stuttered sobs. I hate that we’re having this conversation over the phone, but maybe it’s easier for her to tell me the story this way rather than face to face.
“I’m okay,” she assures me. “I can never get through this without crying, but I’m okay.”
“I’m so very sorry you went through that,” I say earnestly.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“Do you want to tell me the rest? You don’t have to if it’s too much.”
“No, I…I want to finish.” She clears her throat. “So we’d been at the hospital for several days. None of the tests were showing anything positive for Chloe. Tim was on crutches, but we were there together, never leaving Chloe’s side except to use the bathroom. He was a wreck. He felt so guilty since he’d been driving the car, even though it wasn’t his fault. The police told us the truck driver fell asleep at the wheel. And the doctors…they told us there was nothing more they could do for Chloe, that…” Abby’s voice breaks. “That it was time to turn off the machines and let her go.”
Emotion wells in my throat. Now that I have kids, I have some idea of what that would do to a parent. I don’t know how Abby managed to keep going.
“Our family was there, and we were making plans for when we turned the machines off. Organ donation takes time to coordinate. And Tim…he told me he needed some fresh air. He walked right out the front entrance to the hospital and threw himself in front of an oncoming bus. He died instantly.”
“Jesus Christ.” I stare out my windshield, shocked.
I don’t say the things that come to mind. How the fuck could he do that? How could a man leave his wife in the moment she needed him the most? He left her alone to witness the death of their precious daughter. And I don’t care how much pain he was in. Fucking coward.
“I still went through with ending the life support,” Abby says softly. “I had to. There was no chance for Chloe to wake up, and other kids were depending on those organs. I had a double funeral for them. And then I descended into a deep, dark depression that I never thought I’d crawl out of. I didn’t want to.”
“That’s understandable. You went through hell, Abby.”
“After seven months of grieving and not leaving my house, I woke up one day and decided to do something in Chloe’s name. It was cathartic for me to build Cypress Lane and the foundation. It gave me an outlet. Something else to focus on.”
“I can’t even imagine.” I’m dazed as I think about what she survived, and then what she made from the ashes of her former life.
“I was a stay-at-home mom before. Warm and nurturing. I baked. I deferred to Tim on all the big decisions. So I decided to reinvent myself and become someone new. I don’t think I could have survived any other way.”
“You should be so goddamn proud of yourself.”
She exhales softly. “I’m proud of what the foundation has done.”
“You did that, Abby. That was you.”
“It was my company.”
“Led by you.”
There’s a pause before she says, “Chloe had blond curly hair, Luca. And when I saw you put your hand on your niece’s curly hair that night…” Her voice breaks again. “It was so tender and…it made me think of Tim and Chloe.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t know. But trust me, Luca, I’m no good for you or those kids. I’m still just a shell. I spent three days in bed when I got home from Chicago. You guys need someone whole and healthy.”
My mind is turning, but not around what she just said.
“Are you busy tomorrow?”
“What?”
“Tomorrow, Abby. Are you busy? And the next day, too.”
“I’m not, but…why?”
“Because I’m coming there to see you.”Chapter NineteenLuca“Scoop it into the goal then, and bam! You see what I’m sayin’ here, son?”
I smile weakly and nod. “Yeah, sounds like you’ve really thought this through.”
