"Ah-yup," Uncle David says, another weird Maine expression that's crept into his speech. A table saw whines in the background. The tone changes as the blade tastes wood, gearing up to a horrific shriek like someone being tortured. A woman with serious lung capacity. A shot-putter. One of those beefy opera singers.
I close my bedroom door, shout, "Hey! It's Dani. Could you go to your office maybe?"
"Hey niece o'mine, what'd ya say? Keegan's ripping boards and I can't hear squat. I better go to my office." He shouts something to his assistant and gradually the heinous squealing fades. "A'right. Office. Shoot."
"I need your help right away. Some hospital called saying Poppa's been in an accident and they want to operate immediately and they need approval from Mum, but she's not here and I don't know where she went or exactly how long she'll be gone or anything, and the nurse lady who called wouldn't give me any details at all but it must be pretty bad if they have to operate. I'm seriously freaking out. Could you please, please, please call the hospital and see if you can find out what the heck is going on and give them the okay to operate?"
"Whoa. Accident? What kind of accident? Car accident?"
Images of crumpled fenders, broken glass, thick smoke, and charred car remains click through my mind in rapid succession. Not again, Lord. Please, not again. I wobble, sink onto my bed. "I—. I don't know," I choke.
"Sorry, I'm just in shock. I mean, after your dad..." he gives a low whistle. "Gracie's been through this kind of hell one too many times. Give me that number. I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks." I wipe my eyes and give him the nurse's name and number. "What should I do now? Mum could be back any time. She's gonna just curl up and die when she finds out."
"Well..." he drawls, "I reckon there might be, you know, divine providence in her missing that call. It's about time I had a go at being the responsible kid. Don't you worry, and don't say nothing. Got it?"
"You want me to lie to Mum?"
"I'd like to spare Sis some grief for a change, so let's keep this between us for now. No guarantees it'll work, but it's worth a shot. Go back to what you were doing and just be normal."
I snort. "This should be good. I've got two finals tomorrow."
"I'm real sorry, Dani. Go study and try not to worry too much. God's watching over you and Gracie. He won't let you be tested beyond what you can bear, as the Good Book says."
YOU ARE READING
Almost There
Teen FictionParis, the City of Lights. To seventeen-year-old Dani Deane, it's the Promised Land. There, her widowed mother's depression will vanish and she will no longer fear losing her only parent, her arty New York life, or her devoted boyfriend. But shortly...
