The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted (28 page)

She heard Dylan’s muffled laugh. “Making jokes, as usual. That’s good. Keep it up. It’ll get your mind off the cold.” He paused, then started more serious, “I don’t think Mike will be pissed at all once he knows what happened, and that you’re okay.” He stopped for a few seconds waiting for her response. “Aimee, keep talking. Just say anything to stay awake. If you’re talking I know you’re okay. Anything else you can tell me?”

Her mood turned dark again. Aimee's voice quivered when she replied, “Uh...yeah.
Pleeeease
hurry. I’m so tired.
I’m not sure how much longer I can stay awake.”

“Aimee, I just got off the interstate onto 99. Keep talking, babe. Don’t give up on me.”

“Dylan, I love you with all my heart,” she whispered. Her mind was getting clouded and her senses fading fast.

Dylan didn’t respond. There was silence for a while, then cursing. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry. What did you say? I couldn’t get around some asshole blocking the road. I’m coming now as fast as I can.”

“I love you,” Aimee whispered before she felt consciousness leaving her body.

Dylan instantly shouted,
“AIMEE, KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN! WAKE UP! DON’T CLOSE
YOUR EYES!”

Her eyes flickered open, then she heard a horn tooting. “Dylan, what’s that noise?”

“I’m honking. I’m a few miles out. It’s raining, dark, and nothing yet on either side of the road. Keep talking, and if you can hear the horn as I get closer, let me know so I can slow down and start looking for your car.”

“Oh, Dylan, you’re
so
smart,” muttered Aimee. For a couple minutes she listened. All she could
hear was the rain softly landing on the crumbled roof of the car, and the horn coming through the phone. “I don’t hear anything,” she said, but after what seemed like forever she heard the beeping getting louder, not the sound of beeping coming through the phone, but the real thing. “Dylan,” she exclaimed, “Dylan, I think I hear it!”

“Aimee, do you hear me com…” he started, but didn’t finish.

Instead she heard the sound of brakes screeching, and the sound of the door opening, and Dylan’s gasp. It was all sweet music to Aimee's ears. Tears spilled down her cheeks as he gently touched her battered body. Her sobs started flowing uncontrollably. He stroked Aimee's hair and whispered, “I love you.” She held her breath and muffled every evidence of the unbearable pain when he gingerly lifted and slid her into the reclined passenger seat of the FJ. Delicately he wrapped her like a mummy. She bit her lip to hide the pain, but it swept through her with every slight move and she felt her body giving up to it. The last thing she remembered was Dylan starting the engine and telling her, “Everything will be okay now, sweetheart…”

Then the cab went black. ...

...Her dad was sitting in a green vinyl chair with his head propped against his open hand. His eyes were closed. He looked tired. Terribly tired. Wrinkles she hadn’t noticed before, marked by black circles under his eyes, made him look like he had been in that same position for days. Dylan fidgeted with the edge of the striped curtain. He leaned against the stark white wall, and every once in a while he pulled back one of the curtains just enough to peek out, then let the curtain fall back into place. He pressed his cell phone against his ear. His voice was low and somber, but Aimee heard him say
Mom
every so often. She glanced down and spotted the needle inserted in the top of her hand into a puffy, blue vein, then the clear tubing taped to her wrist, and followed it up to the plastic bag filled with clear liquid hanging from the IV pole. Aimee flinched, and a groan instantly escaped.

Dad’s eyes popped open, and then he immediately bolted out of his chair. Dylan flew to the other side of the bed at the same time. Aimee started to say something, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and only a few grunts managed to escape.

Instantly her dad grabbed the small pitcher on the bedside table and poured her a glass of water. He held it below Aimee's chin, and placed the straw near her mouth so she could take a sip. “Here, honey,” instructed Dad, “take a little swig of this first before you try to talk.” He watched her while she took a long, slow drink of water, then twirled the cool liquid around her sandy baked mouth first before swallowing it. Dylan eased his fingers around Aimee's fingers. The rest of the hand and forearm was covered with a soft cast up to the elbow. He kept his eyes locked on Aimee, too, while he watched her sip the water.

Dylan asked, “Does it hurt if I touch your fingers?”

She smiled and shook her head. After a long minute, Dad looked over to Dylan and asked him to go retrieve the nurse. Dylan leaned over the bed rail and kissed her cheek, then whispered, “I love you. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Dylan was gone, Dad spoke. His voice was edgy. “Marie Aimee Schmidt...you’re
gonna be the
death
of me! You had me, and Hannah, so worried. When I got the call from Dylan that
you were in the emergency room, and how he found you, and the dead deer and your car....” His voice quivered, then trailed off for a few seconds. He gulped before continuing, “…well, I almost had a wreck myself trying to get back here.”

“Dad, I’m…”

Dad immediately interrupted, “No, sweetheart, don’t try talking.” Suddenly, he gently placed his cheek against her head, and held it there for a few long seconds while he stroked her hair. Tears spilled from his eyes and dropped onto Aimee's hospital gown. Aimee grimaced, but bit her bottom lip so he couldn’t hear her groan. Finally, Dad sat down, then carefully took her taped hand into his. “Aimee, I want to hear what happened. And Levi wants to take your statement, but not now. You need to rest, and get stronger, before we deal with this. I’m just so incredibly happy to see your beautiful blue eyes right now.”

Dylan entered the room, followed by a nurse who had a hospital badge hanging around his neck with his picture and name, Stuart Dempsey, RN. Dad stepped down to the end of the bed, and Dylan returned to the other side and immediately wrapped his warm hand around her cold fingers hanging out from the cast.

“Good evening, Miss Schmidt,” the nurse said. “Welcome back. So how are you feeling tonight?”

Aimee answered hoarsely, “I’ve been better, but I’m alive at least.”

Quickly he started taking vitals. After about five minutes of questions and poking and prodding, he finished and asked, “Are you hungry?”

“No, not really,” she answered. “I feel a little nauseated.”

“That’s probably from the medication that we have in your IV to help ease the pain from the rib you rebroke, along with the fractured radius in your right arm. You had quite an accident. I know you don’t feel lucky right now, but a lot of the patients we see who have had a head on with an animal don’t fare as well.”

She stared up at Dylan and smiled weakly. “I guess I have this awesome guy to thank for saving me.” Dylan’s lips turned up at the corners. He squeezed her fingers slightly.

Mr. Dempsey said, “Yes, that’s what I hear. It was good he found you when he did. Besides the broken bones, you had some hypothermia when he brought you in, but you’ve stabilized quite nicely over the past couple of days.”

“Couple of days?!”
Aimee screeched.

“Yes, ma’am,” the nurse responded. “You have been here since late Saturday night. It’s Tuesday evening now.”

She laid her head back on the pillow and took a deep breath. Mr. Dempsey continued, “Well, Dr. Miller made rounds already, but we'll be notifying him that you are awake now. He could be back tonight, but since you’re stable and doing well, he may wait until the morning to check on you. Dinner has been served, but I can get you some soup and gelatin sent up.” He smiled and waited for Aimee to answer.

“That would be nice,” she replied.

After the nurse left, Dad scooted back up and sat on the edge of the bed. He took her hand back into his, then started calmly, “Aimee, I don’t want you worrying about a thing. Dylan told me someone ran you off the road, but you’ve been out of it since then. When you get stronger we’ll need to know what you remember.”

“Dad, I…” Aimee started.

“Not now, sweetheart. We can discuss this later when you feel better. I just want you to know
we will find this
motherfu...”

“DA..A…D!”
she screeched her voice sticking in between letters.

Dylan chuckled and Dad said, “Sorry, sorry, honey, but I get pissed thinking about how this jerk almost killed my little girl…” He paused, then continued, “Anyway, I want you to know you’re safe. We’ll find this guy and let Levi deal with him. I’m sure this creep will wish he had me to deal
with instead of Levi after
he
gets through with him.”
Aimee forged her eyebrows together and looked over at Dylan. He shrugged his shoulders and forced back a grin. Dad continued, “Well, I’m beat, and I need to stop by a couple job sites on my way home. Now that you’re awake, and I know you’re okay, I think I’ll sleep at the house tonight. But I’ll be back first thing in the morning. I’m gonna let Dylan take over from here.”

“Oh, Dad, you haven’t been here the whole time, have you?”

Dylan jumped in this time. “Your dad hasn’t left your side, except for a few minutes last night so he could take care of some errands. James was here, too, but you didn’t wake up so he and Sacha stayed and visited with us all Sunday afternoon. He’s been calling and checking on you almost every hour. I told him I’d have you call him when you woke, and felt well enough. And Chelsea’s been in and out, too.”

Dad added, “Hannah was here Sunday, and last night, too.”

She tried to fight back the tears. “I’m so sorry to be such a pain for everyone. I didn’t mean to…”

“Hush, sweetheart,” Dad said. “We all have just been so worried about you, and now that you are awake and talking, and Dr. Miller feels you will be fine with several weeks of taking it easy…” She rolled her eyes. Dad narrowed his eyes and lectured, “…yes, at least six weeks of no jogging or surfing or flying, or anything else to slow down your mending.” He pursed his lips as he finished. “And
you
will
mind the doctor’s orders,
won’t
you?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, and then sighed. Dylan lightly squeezed her fingers and smiled.

Dad bent down and kissed her on top of her tousled hair. He picked up his folded newspaper and magazine, then stuffed them under his arm. “I’ll see you about sun up. They’ll be in here around seven in the morning checking on you and getting breakfast. I’ll get here before Dr. Miller makes his rounds. I want to be here when he comes. Well, I guess I better go. I love you, sweetheart. Call if you need anything.” Dad smiled broadly at her, then looked at Dylan. “Thanks again, Dylan, for finding my little girl.” Dylan nodded with a smile pulled slightly up at the corners.

Dylan waited until the door closed before he slid around to the opposite side of the bed and sat down on the edge where Dad had been. He took Aimee's uncasted hand into his, carefully dodging the taped needle. He looked at the IV for a long time, then lifted his eyes to meet hers. He looked into her face forever before he spoke. He cleared his throat then began, “Aimee…you kept mumbling something when I was bringing you to the hospital.” He stopped, took a deep breath, and hesitated
again for several seconds before continuing, “You kept repeating
Brandi’s
name.” He stopped again
and tried to read what he could from her expression.

She shook her head slowly and shrugged her shoulders. “Dylan, I don’t remember much from the other night.” Aimee struggled to keep her voice convincing. “I don’t know why I mentioned Brandi’s name. I don’t remember even really seeing the face of the person who ran me off the road, other than it looked like a guy with short, dark hair, and he was driving a really big, white truck, and it had a huge black grill on the front…and…and the last thing I remember is seeing the deer.” She stopped, then sighed heavily. Dylan continued to watch her face. He looked very sober. She continued, “How
did
you find me?”

Dylan’s eyes widened. “You don’t remember calling me?”

“No. You mean I called
you
on my cell phone?”

“Yeah, I had been trying to call you. I went over to your house before eleven and found no one at home, so I went by Chelsea’s and she said you had dropped her off around ten thirty, and you were going home. So I started driving around looking for you. I kept calling you over and over, and you finally called me back.”

“Wow,” Aimee muttered. “I don’t remember anything. Where did
you find me?”

“You were able to tell me enough about where you were going on the interstate when that asshole was chasing you, so I just took a stab at it and headed north and got off on 99. I guess the Big Guy above was watching over us both because I kept you talking, and it wasn’t long before I found your car on the side of the road.” Dylan’s voice broke and his eyes scrunched together. He shook his head while he forced back
the trembling in his voice. “Aimee… you looked like you were de…
dead.
”
He hesitated. “I haven’t
been able to get it out of my mind, you lying next to that mangled deer. I swear…” He stared intensely into Aimee's eyes. “I swear if something had happened to you, I don’t think I could have handled it. Your dad is right, though. We’re gonna find out who did this to you, and I promise you, if Brandi had anything to do with it, I’ll take care of her myself!”

“No, Dylan! I’m sure she had nothing to do with this. You don’t need to get in the middle of anything. In a few months we'll both be in Eugene, and this will just be a bad memory that can be forgotten.”

Dylan leaned over and stopped a few inches from her face. His sweet breath spilled over her as his lips parted slightly. “I need you more than the air I breathe, Marie Aimee Schmidt. Don’t ever leave me.” Then his lips gently, but firmly touched hers. Aimee kissed him ardently back. The pain across her body was suddenly dulled by his warm embrace.