The Accident, by Denise Rushton
Disclaimer-I don't own the characters; just using them for a story that popped into my head one day
The hospital room was quiet, the only sound was the humming of the equipment hooked up to the little red headed boy in the bed. It was hard to imagine there was enough room on the boy to connect so many machines, thought the man sitting at the bedside as he looked down at his eight year old son. He kept expecting the boy to sit up at any moment and be once again full of the laughter and non stop activity he was full of up until a few hours before. Instead, the boy lay still, quiet. Far too quiet. And once again the man gulped, trying to keep his heart from rising into his throat, trying to keep from being afraid when in reality he was paralyzed with fear for the boy, his son, the last remaining remnant on this earth of his wife, the proof that she was once alive, and full of laughter and love.
Nobody could say that Opie particularly favored either his father or his mother in looks. The best guess they had for Opie's shocking red hair was a great uncle of his. And with the red hair came the freckles and fair skin, and that couldn't be attributed particularly to either of his parents, either. Even the boy's eyes or nose or any of the other body parts people try to see a relative in when looking at a child, even those could not be attributed to any relative. But Andy saw it every time he looked at the boy—Opie's smile. It was as if it came directly from the face of his beloved wife, Sarah. Andy thought privately that maybe Sarah had a smile she shared only with him, and that her last gift to him before passing was to give that same smile to their child.
When Sarah had passed on, Opie was far too young to be capable of a real smile. She had never really recovered from the strain of childbirth, and day by day she slipped further from Andy and their son until she was gone. After Sarah's death, Aunt Lucy stayed in Mayberry to care for the child, and Andy threw himself into his work as sheriff in an attempt to forget the pain of his loss. He knew he should have spent more time with his infant son, but it was so painful to do, and so easy to leave the responsibility to his aunt. Opie was a living reminder of the death of his wife, and for a long time Andy could not get beyond that notion.
It was only one day when Opie, then a toddler, pulled himself to standing using Andy's knee and then, so proud of his accomplishment, let that same smile beam across his face. It was as if Andy's heart melted seeing that, and it finally allowed him to let go of the pain of losing Sarah and enabled him to let his son into his heart. It was as if in that moment he finally learned that in order to truly cherish and honor the memory of his wife, he would have to cherish the son that was the reflection of the love he had shared with Sarah. From that day, the pair were inseparable. Though Andy definitely was a father to the boy, he was also a friend.
Andy took such pride in how Opie was growing up. Sure, there were the little mistakes that all kids made, but for the most part Opie was a great kid. Watching Opie grow, Andy could not help but be reminded of himself at Opie's age, and the thought made him smile in reminiscence. Mayberry was a wonderful place when Andy grew up there, and it was just as wonderful to watch Opie discovering the same fascinating things to do and places to see that marked Andy's growing up. Until today.
Andy looked at the boy, laying far too still in the hospital bed, and he wanted desperately to turn back the clock and stop Opie from going up to the cave, the very same one in which Andy had played so often as a child. Andy had thought nothing of it when Opie asked if he and some of his friends could go exploring there today. Thank God his friends were there and were able to run back to town for help when part of the wall in the cave gave way and fell on Opie. If he had been there alone…well, Andy could not even think of the nightmarish outcome of that scenario. It was bad enough as it was. Some of the boys had stayed behind and managed to clear the debris from Opie's face, and Andy and Barney along with some other men from town took care of the rest when they got there, and rushed Opie to the hospital in Mount Pilot. It felt as if Andy didn't take a single breath through the entire interminable trip, listening for any sound, looking for any motion from his son, who lay too still in his arms, the arms that failed to protect the boy from this tragedy. Then Opie was put on a stretcher and rushed down the hall to be seen by the doctors, and Andy stood alone in the waiting room, not acknowledging the presence of Barney, the others from Mayberry who followed the speeding police car on its trip to Mount Pilot, and even Aunt Bee when Gomer was thoughtful enough to bring her to the hospital.
Then the doctor came out, told Andy he could sit with his son, that the boy had a concussion and there was nothing left to do but wait. He sat by the bedside with Opie's limp hand clutched protectively between his own, and he closed his eyes and tried to pray to God, but could not. Instead, he spoke to Sarah, asking her to look after their son, and to let him come back to him. His lips moved silently, forming but not speaking the words, against the boy's limp hand, but Andy's heart and mind were filled with the words with which he beseeched his long deceased wife to bring life to the boy, as she had done once before eight years ago.
Without knowing why, Andy was disturbed from his reverie, and he raised his eyes to the window on the other side of Opie's bed, and noticed a bird sitting on the ledge. Not just any bird—he noticed it was a mockingbird, and he remembered how that was Sarah's favorite bird, and his heart filled with the knowledge that Sarah would always be with him and Opie. He stared at the bird intently, and the bird stared back, unafraid.
The gaze was only broken by a sound, and Andy looked down at Opie as the boy's eyes struggled open and, in a shaky, unsure voice, he whispered "Pa?" Andy's face broke into a reassuring smile for the boy as he said, "It's okay, Opie, you're going to be alright. Just stay still. I have to get the doctor in to look at you."
As Andy reached out his hands to gently lay his son's hand on his chest before he rose from his seat, he looked at Opie's face. Slowly, that smile, that same smile that Sarah had, crossed tremulously across Opie's face. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Andy saw the bird take flight, and knew in his heart that Opie was going to be just fine.
The end.
