Page 53 of Hide My Heart
Beck’s face is beet red and his eyes are squished shut. Blood drips over his scalp, and he’s holding his breath, gearing up for a loud cry.
“Amber, you’re bleeding,” Nate says right when Beck lets out a roar.
The sirens cut off and doors slam. Footsteps invade, but all I can do is scream and pray. “Oh, God, oh, God, forgive me, God, forgive me.”
“Amber, you’re hurt.” Nate drags me by the armpits, but I won’t let go of Beck. He’s got blood all over his head. I am so stupid.
“Sir, let go of her,” an authoritative voice says. Two pairs of hands lift me, and another pair strips Beck from my arms.
“Beck!” I scream. “My baby. My baby!”
“She’s in shock,” a voice says.
I’m lifted onto a stretcher as more sirens whoop to a halt and torsos and legs surround me, some carrying guns. The police must have arrived.
“Where’s my baby? How’s my baby?” I mutter as stars invade my visual field and I’m reeling with confusion.
“Amber, he’s okay,” a strong male voice barks at me. “They’re taking him in to check him out, but it’s your blood on his forehead.”
“Dad?” I blink and squint up at him haloed by the bright sunlight. “Where’s Nate? Where’s Beck?”
“They’re being taken to the hospital,” Dad says. “I’ll ride in with your baby.”
My baby? How did my parents know? And why aren’t they upset and angry?
The paramedics lift the stretcher and shove me into a waiting ambulance. They put an oxygen mask over my face and someone pokes my hand while other hands attach a blood pressure cuff.
“Oh, honey.” A softer hand touches my fingers. It’s my mother. She climbs into the ambulance and takes a seat next to me “You’ve finally come home. We prayed so hard over you, and the Lord has brought you back.”
Whatever I say is muffled under the oxygen mask, so I nod and let her speak. I’m both numb and hurting, as the paramedic disinfects and dabs at my head to stop the bleeding.
It could have been worse.
The ride down the mountain is bumpy with sharp turns down the narrow switchbacks. I assume the other ambulances are either ahead of us or behind. Dad stayed with Beck, even though I want him next to me. They’re not ringing the siren for anyone, so no one’s injuries are life threatening.
Thank God.
“You’re hurt,” Mother says, squeezing my fingers. “The knife sliced your scalp, but it’s superficial. A few stitches. We’re just so glad you’ll be home for Christmas. Grandma wanted to come meet you, but she’s weak. She sends her love.”
I’ve overwhelmed by her kind words. Is she not upset at me? Angry that I disobeyed?
“Mom, forgive me,” I mouth under the oxygen mask, and then my tears course down both sides of my face. I sob, gulping big sobs as all my feelings crash against the seawall of my guilt and regret. “I’m so sorry.”
“Miss, you’ll have to calm down,” the paramedic says. “Please.”
But I can’t stop the torrent, and my mother enfolds me into her arms the way I always wished she would. She pets me and kisses me, stroking my shoulders and murmuring, “We failed, all of us failed, but God is gracious and forgiving. God always gives second chances. In His grace and mercy, He gives us good gifts out of a bad situation. That baby of yours is precious. So very precious.”
“How, how, did you know?” I wail, my voice muffled under the mask.
“Nate’s mother came to us a few days ago,” Mom says. “She told us everything. Told us how she would love little Beck as her own.”
“Are you mad at me? For getting pregnant?” I’m scared to face her, but I stare into her eyes, needing to bear the full brunt of her anger.
“Oh, darling, how can we be mad at you when we were afraid you’d never come back? You never wrote or called to let us know you were okay. We feared the worst, and all along, you were with that dangerous criminal. We could have lost you for good.”
I rip off the oxygen mask as a new worry shoots through me. “Hunter, what happened to him? Is he okay?”
“He’s gone,” my mother’s voice is solemn. “I saw them pull the tarp over his face. Do you still have feelings for him?”
