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Currently, it was difficult to imagine that because he craved Savannah’s presence so intensely he dreamed of her every time his eyes closed. He’d see someone with red hair and be struck with the memory of the first time he’d unclipped Savannah’s hair, the way her long tresses had tumbled over her shoulders, how silky the strands had felt between his fingers as he’d kissed her throat, her neck, her creamy shoulders.
He missed her.
But his father’s voice echoing through his head couldn’t be silenced. Nor could the memory of his mother and her tragic death.
Savannah was better off without him.
Much better off.
No matter how much he missed her, he’d stay away.
He checked on his patient, made chart notes for one of the residents to follow up on, and left the unit. He’d gotten to the elevator and pushed the down arrow when his cell phone rang.
He glanced at the number. It wasn’t one he recognized.
He started to ignore it as he’d soon be stepping into the elevator and would likely lose the signal anyway, but some inner force had him sliding his finger across the screen.
“Charlie Keele?”
Charlie didn’t recognize the male voice. “Yes?”
“This is Sergeant Oliver Casteel. I’m with the Metro Police Department.”
The elevator dinged and the door slid open, revealing an elderly couple and a nurse inside the car already. Brow furrowed to form a tight knot between his eyes, Charlie motioned for the elevator to go on without him and stepped away from the doors. He couldn’t fathom why the police would be calling him, but he sure didn’t want to step into the elevator and possibly lose the signal.
“You were listed as the emergency contact for Savannah Carter.”
Listed as the emergency contact.
Charlie’s knees threatened to buckle. There were very few reasons why the Police Department made phone calls.
“She’s been in an accident.”
“Is she...” His voice broke and he couldn’t finish his question. He was used to dealing with life and death, with emergencies. Yet nothing had prepared him for this phone call and the very real fear gripping him. Savannah had been in an accident and the police were calling him.
“She’s been in a multi-car accident. She’s alive but seriously injured.”
She was alive.
“I’m calling because she had you listed as her emergency contact,” the officer continued.
His brain raced. “I’ll let her mother know and head to Chattanooga immediately.”
“Chattanooga?”
What the officer had said registered. “She’s in Nashville?”
“She’s been airlifted to Vanderbilt University Medical Center.”
Airlifted. Vanderbilt. Savannah was there.
“I’m there. Here.” Savannah was here. “I work there. Here.” He wasn’t making much sense, had no idea what else he said to the officer, knew that he responded to the man’s
comments about Savannah’s personal belongings and her car being totaled and towed to a local garage, but all he really focused on was getting to the emergency department. Today, the hospital seemed a hundred times larger than he knew the building to be.
He had to flash his name badge a few times but, fortunately, once in the emergency department, it didn’t take long to find her. The helicopter had obviously just landed and she’d only been inside the hospital a few minutes. She was surrounded by nurses and at least two emergency room physicians. A portable X-ray machine was being rolled up to no doubt check for internal injuries.
“She’s pregnant, just over four months,” he said to no one in particular. At this point, he had no idea if she’d lost the baby. He just knew pregnant women didn’t get X-rays unless it was an emergency.
