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“You got this!” Natalie yells, clapping her hands.
Trinity’s eyes meet mine and it’s like looking into a damn mirror. I nod at her; she nods right back and her mouth sets in a grim line. She’s not playing around anymore.
The next pitch is terrible. She lays back.
“Good eye,” I praise, clapping loudly.
This time, the ball coming from the pitcher’s mound to the plate looks like it’s going to the fucking moon. I’m not sure what the pitcher did, but it’s a slow mover and Trinity steps hardcore into her swing. The sound of the softball reverberating off her bat has everyone in the stands standing and cheering.
Natalie runs to home plate, waving the runners home just as the ball goes over the back fence.
“Home Run, Trinity Hines.”
It’s the first one she’s ever hit and at the most perfect of times. Natalie stays there, letting Trin’s foot touch the plate before she lifts her up in her arms and spins her around.
An hour later, when they’re getting their trophies and someone is taking pictures, Trinity yells for the two of us.
“She said she wanted her picture to be with her parents,” the photographer says, directing us to squish in together.
As the flash goes off, my arm tightens around Natalie’s waist. If it weren’t for her, her love for us, and her willingness to put up with me, we wouldn’t be here.
This love would’ve combusted before it ever got started.
EPILOGUE 2
Chance
“Ambulance thirty-three is responding;ETA is two minutes.”
The weather is fucking awful. Autumn rainstorms are sometimes worse than the super early winter storms. This one is hitting at one of the worst times it could too. Late summer has been hot and we’ve been in semi-drought conditions for the last few weeks. Which means, no rain.
This storm has brought all of the oil and debris from the road up to the surface. The force of the wind has knocked the first round of leaves off the trees and, with that fresh coating, it’s dangerous. It’s slick as ice, particularly on these back roads.
I’m trying to get to the scene of the accident I’ve been called to as quickly as possible while still being safe. Sliding slightly as I round a corner, I grit my teeth. “Son of a bitch.” White-knuckling the wheel, I take my foot off the gas, letting it slow down on its own. Once I have control of the rig again, I accelerate, needing to get to the scene as quickly as possible.
Turning the corner, there it is. Smoke billows from the crumpled up hood of the car; it’s upside down. I’m thankful for the rain; it’s keeping whatever fire might be ready to ignite at bay. The driver’s side is smashed in and I’m not looking forward to what’s going to greet me when I get there. Immediately, my brain starts to fire, ready to determine how I’m going to need to respond. What types of first aid I’ll have to render.
It’s a mind game every time I go to a scene, something that helps me get mentally prepared. That way, in the heat of the moment, I’m not scrambling and trying to figure out how I can best help the patients.
Pulling up to a stop in front of everything, I reach over and grab my jacket before setting the brake on the ambulance. I’m shrugging into the jacket as I get out, grabbing my go-bag and running up to the scene.
“We haven’t gotten in the car yet,” Cam yells over the sound of the storm.
“Can you get me in the window?” I yell back at him. “That way, I can assess and at least get Bradford General ready to take them or see if they need to be transferred to Knoxville.”
“Yeah, c’mon.” He hitches his chin in the direction of the crash.
I follow closely behind, not wanting to waste any second of whatever time we have here. Lying down on my stomach, I crawl in. It’s a woman in the driver’s seat. Her dark hair covers her face. The top of her head is sticky with blood and I immediately know there’s a head wound. In the back, I catch sight of what looks to be a car seat. “We might have a kid in here,” I yell out to them.
“Where at?” Gauge asks, trying to wedge in next to me.
“Back passenger side. Doesn’t that look like the high edge of one?”
“Sure does, let me get some guys over there. Just need to take a look at what you’re seeing.”
With him out of the way, I have more room to work.
“I’m Chance, an EMT, and I’m here to help you,” I tell her as calmly as I can. I’ve found that when you’re working with patients who’ve been in situations like this, it’s best to not let them hear the pain in your voice. Carefully, I reach in and put the c-collar in place. Once I have that secured, I push the hair out of her face in order to assess what’s going on.
