Page 5 of Nightingale

2

Stress ate into Amber Ferguson joints to the point she understood her patients with arthritis talking about their fingers locking up and refusing to move. She had to get her two kids to Billings to meet their dad and she was running late as usual. It never worked out for her to get them ready and packed then out the door on time to make it to their designated time to meet. The pass off shifted to Saturday morning because the kids had a game moved to Friday night, due to a rainout earlier in the week.

Not that it was a big deal, her ex was an easy going man most times and didn’t get mad at her for being a little late. It was just something she hated herself. Sure, she’d spend two hours getting there and two hours home, but in between, she’d have a moment to herself. Being a single mom wasn’t for the faint of heart. Even if she’d be back on Sunday driving the same four hours, she could sleep in late tomorrow. A reward she would savor as she tried to not act too excited about it around her kids.

“Come on you two we have to get going.”

She waited until both of them were in the van before locking Callum into his booster chair and Maisie in a seat belt. The kids seemed to appreciate the ritual of her always making sure they were belted up before she moved the van. Soon, her eight year old Maisie would become annoyed with it, but until then she was going to put forth the effort.

The busy single mom never had enough time in one day to get everything accomplished. After stowing their bags away in the back, she slammed down the hatch and made her way to the driver’s side of the vehicle.

Her phone buzzed in the cupholder with a text.Are you on the way yet?From her ex.

She sent a text back.Just leaving now. Be a little late.

It figures. I’ll be waiting.

Kevin had come a long way since they were divorced. Before she left him, he had shown her a few times he had a temper and never tolerated her being late. Now, he accepted the fact their children came first, usually making her run behind and didn’t give her a hard time.

Maybe Maisie had melted down on him like she had with her that morning. All because the wrong shirt was still dirty. Even on the small load cycle, which to Amber was a waste of time and resources, it took over an hour to wash and dry, so it could be added to the overnight bag. God help the child if she wasn’t wearing it when Amber picked her up tomorrow.

Backing out of the driveway, she waved to her neighbor who was watering his lawn. The man was obsessed with a green lawn even in the fall. She had put up all her yard stuff a week ago in preparation for the winter. Her little house was all she could afford on her own. The kid’s child support was a pittance of what it should be, considering what her ex made yearly, but she parsed out the money the best she could to still set up a savings for them. The last thing she needed was Kevin saying she’d wasted the money on her own needs and not the childrens’.

Driving onto the highway that led out of Berrington to Billings, she found theDisneystation on the satellite radio. She hated every other weekend she had to drive so far, but it had been part of the agreement they had come up with at the divorce hearing. She just wanted to get it over with and didn’t fight him. When she tried to move into a full time, not part time position at work, she learned they were being bought out and her job search sent her into the middle of nowhere Montana.

Renegotiating custody turned into a nightmare and for her own sanity, she accepted the commute twice a month.

Listening to bright and poppy music, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that both of her kids were taking a nap. It was peaceful and her heart warmed with pride of how good they were in a vehicle. Outside, well, they were kids.

Loud noise alerted her to several motorcycles passing her.

“Mama, I want goldfish,” Callum’s groggy voice cut through the sound of pipes bearing down on her.

“Gotcha,” she replied digging into the basket of treats she kept for the long rides and late practices. Anything for a quick snack to settle the kids.

Her body trembled as the sea of metal, leather and exhaust encompassed her van, making her foot slip from the gas pedal as she passed her son his snack. Clutching the wheel the fear of turning the wheel, no matter how slight, could send the motorcycles into a domino track of destruction. It was ridiculous, and still she feared hurting the men who rode and women hanging on the back.

It seemed to go on forever until she saw the last one go by her. Frightening her by their mere presence. So much had happened in Berrington over the last few years with men who rode. Parents spoke of pulling their kids out of the lawless town, just now finding a bit of peace since the new sheriff had taken over. That didn’t mean another MC wasn’t going to roll into Berrington and this group was so large her skin rose until she saw it was the MC from Turnabout Creek. She had heard about these guys. Most were military men who had created this club and helped turn the town into something they were proud of. More importantly, somewhere in this pack, the Sherriff was probably riding.

Turning up the music, Amber started to dance in her seat to the beat. After driving several miles, she glanced up ahead and saw a semi jackknifing across the median and coming to her side of the road. Several of the motorcycles were crashing. Holding her chest, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was out of a horror movie and both her feet slammed on her brakes. Jarring herself and the kids.

“My goldfish,” Callum cried out.

Amber pulled the van to the side of the road trying to make sense of what was unfolding in front of her. Putting her van in park, she turned off the happy song to hear the last of the scrapes of pavement and metal. The nurse in her began assessing the situation as smoke plumed in the air and her body flooded with adrenaline.

Opening the glove box she grabbed her first aid kit, then snagged her stethoscope from the front seat where she tossed it after her last shift. It had been years since she’d worked in an ER, but she had experience that was what counted in this moment.

“Mommy what happened?” Maisie asked.

Her little voice jarred Amber from the immediateI must help response.

Turning she saw her two kids, bright eyed staring at her. Fuck, triple fuck. Glancing back and forth between the scene in front of her and her children, a choice had to be made. Maisie was eight. Lord knows Amber’s mom left her alone at eight a time or two. But Maisie wasn’t her, because she never needed to be.

“Maisie, I need you to be a big girl. Like fourth grade big,” Amber said, knowing how much her daughter idolized the older kids at school. “Wait here with your brother and don’t leave. It’s a bad accident and I need to help them. You understand?”

“Yes, mommy,” Maisie said, her voice trembling a bit as she nodded slightly.

“You hear that, Callum, your sister is in charge.” Hauling the treat basket from the front seat and dropping it in between the two of them she prayed they would listen.

---