Author's Note: I guess I should read over my uploaded chapters before I add them. I didn't realize the song lyrics in chapter 4 and 5 were all run together. They aren't supposed to be like that. I had them nice and perfect. sigh. Just imagine them the right way, 'cause I don't know how to fix 'em. And after all the careful consideration of what Christmas songs to use as titles, I totally went against that this time and used a Shania Twain song title, lol. Anyway! Not to sound all full of myself, but I was really pleased with this chapter and it's my favorite of any that I've written so far. Hope you like it. Thanks for the reviews.

Chapter 6

GOD BLESS THE CHILD

*

"You've never owned a dog??" Scott questioned with disbelief. "Ever?"

"Nope. Maggie doesn't like 'em. The big ones scare her and she says the little ones are so nervous and yappy that she just wants to wring their scrawny necks. Besides, we usually live in places where dogs aren't allowed," I explained. "We did have a cat once, though. Wendy. She was yellow."

"What happened to her?"

"My dad took her with him when he moved out."

An awkward pause followed and I wished I hadn't brought up the stupid cat. Why we were even discussing pets I didn't know. Just one of those weird things that pops into a conversation when one topic leads to another. I liked how that happened with Scott - our chatter meandering along until we'd covered so many stories and details about ourselves that it was impossible to trace back to what had started us telling them. But occasionally there was still that uncomfortable moment, like now, after a sad memory was mentioned and no one knew what to say. The approaching shriek of a siren was a welcome distraction and I twisted in my seat to see the ambulance that was speeding up behind us. Scott slowed to a stop at the side of the road and we both watched as the vehicle whizzed by in a blur of lights and piercing sounds. It turned down the street we were headed for.

"Must be close to us," he observed, accelerating back into the flow of traffic.

Home was only a few blocks away and I was already feeling disappointed that our time together was drawing to an end. I didn't want to go back to my life. I wanted to stay that orphan girl I'd dreamed up. She never had to leave Scott's side. She never had to sit in a boring, lonely apartment and miss people who were off living their lives. But she didn't have a brother named Eric who was waiting - probably very impatiently - for her return either. His presents were in a bag by my feet and I looked at it guiltily. Back to reality, Abby. No more dreaming today.

Too bad my reality had a knack for sucking worse just when I thought it couldn't suck any more.

The ambulance was parked outside my apartment building. Immediately I was concerned about Maggie. I'd lost count of how many times I had to call the hospital because she'd accidentally hurt herself. Mostly she only required stitches because of a run-in with broken glass or some other sharp object that found its way into her hands during one of her fits. I often heard glass shattering in my nightmares and woke up to go check on her. But there had been no noises to warn me before the worst ambulance ride I'd ever taken. The one that wasn't an accident. It was still so fresh in my mind that I could smell the crisp medicine and disinfectant odor that always stayed the same no matter what ambulance or hospital you were in. To me it was a comforting aroma because it meant Maggie would be getting better, at least for a while. That trip to the hospital hadn't looked so promising, though. That was when I realized not all of her suicide attempts were meant to fail.

With those thoughts flashing through my head, it took a second for me to remember that Maggie was gone. I had no relief between that and my next big concern - Eric. He was locked up safe in our apartment, I told myself. But the queasiness in my stomach didn't go away, and as soon as Scott pulled into an alley, our street blocked by the ambulance and a large crowd of people, I flung open the truck door and sprinted towards the scene. Mr. Goran stood outside the circle of onlookers who were obstructing my view. His hands came down hard on my shoulders when I tried to get past him.

"I've tried to tell you kids not to play in the street. He didn't want to listen to me." Mr. Goran turned me around, his fingers encircling my arms tightly and his face lowered near mine. I thought he was going to shake me. "This is what happens when children are left unattended. I should have called the authorities long ago."

I saw his lips moving, but my ears were ringing with the words "Eric's dead." Over and over. Eric's dead, Eric's dead. You weren't here and now he's dead. I squirmed wildly under the older man's firm grasp, fighting him with some of the strength I'd seen Maggie display while three or more people did their best to hold her down. "Lemme go!" I shrieked, drawing the attention of a few curious individuals who moved out of the way long enough for me to catch a glimpse of the paramedics putting a neck brace on my brother. Scott had charged after me and was telling Mr. Goran to let me go, but I got loose on my own with such a mighty tug that I fell into the person behind me. I just wanted to get to my brother. That's all I wanted.

The crowd parted to let me stumble through - I was almost there!- and then I was being held back again, more hands preventing me from the last steps that would have carried me to Eric's side. "Let them take care of this." "You'll be in the way." I felt like I was drowning in a river of their excuses, and the only thing visible to me was a dark trail of blood running from Eric's ear. Except it looked black and I didn't realize it was blood at first. Someone was telling me he'd been hit by a car, but I couldn't make sense of that either. I left him in the apartment where he was safe. Little boys didn't get hit by cars and die two days before Christmas, did they? At least in my world when people left it wasn't because they were dead.

"Please, I need to go to him. He can't die alone," I sobbed, my voice unrecognizable inside my own head. "I'm his sister. Please!" In some childish way I guess I believed please was the magic word that got you what you wanted and I repeated it as I struggled with my captors, hot tears of frustration burning in my eyes as I watched my brother being lifted into the ambulance.

I was still saying it when one of the paramedics stepped down from the vehicle and signaled for the people to release me.

"You're his sister?" the man in white asked.

I nodded, my chest heaving beneath my purple coat.

"Where're your parents?"

I didn't have an answer and I wasn't thinking clearly enough to lie. "Gone."

He spoke quickly, his tone gentle but frighteningly serious. "You can ride in the back with him if you calm down. You have to let us do our job. And he'll be able to hear you, so you don't wanna say things that will scare him. Understand?"

Eric could hear me. That meant he wasn't dead. I latched on to that with every ounce of hope I had in me and nodded again. The paramedic helped me into the ambulance and I forced myself to get a grip, or at least to stop crying so loudly. I didn't feel like I was in control of my own actions or words anymore, like I had stepped away from my body to watch some stranger, a terrified little girl, take my place. It didn't scare me nearly as much as whoever it was that had taken Eric's place, though. My funny, energetic, beautiful baby brother wasn't moving and he seemed uncharacteristically fragile. I normally admired his perfectly smooth skin that hadn't yet dealt with the effects of puberty and all its blemishes, but now it was pale and eerie looking. They'd cut open his shirt to reveal his gaunt torso. He liked to gross me and Maggie out sometimes by sucking in that thin stomach till every rib was visible and Maggie called him Mr. Bones.

If anyone spoke to me on the way to the hospital, I didn't hear it. I was concentrating on the rise and fall of Eric's chest, willing it to continue. His eyelids fluttered several times and even opened once, but he didn't see me and I was too afraid to move or speak. I barely blinked and not a single tear fell as I sent up a silent continuous prayer: Please don't let him die, God. I won't leave him anymore. I won't wish away my family. Just please don't let him die.

When we arrived at the emergency room I hovered in the corner as they hooked Eric up to every wire and machine imaginable. Eventually one of the nurses, a young woman with blond hair that lay in two separate braids on her shoulders, noticed me. As she approached I wondered how old she was. She didn't look old enough to be a nurse.

"Hi there..."

"Abby." My voice came out weakly, so I cleared my throat.

"Is this your brother?"

"Yes. His name's Eric."

"Well, Miss Abby, why don't you and I go find a place to hang your coat while the doctor finishes checking Eric out?"

I looked down at the coat I was holding in my arms. I didn't even remember taking it off, and the last thing I was concerned about was finding somewhere to hang it. "Is he going to be ok? I don't wanna leave him..."

The nurse smiled warmly and laid a comforting hand on my back. "He's doing well, but the doctor needs to run several tests just to make sure. As soon as he's awake you can come back and sit with him. C'mon." She guided me to the door and I let her, too dazed to protest her gentle suggestion. "Are you thirsty? We can stop by the vending machines and get you a pop."

She laughed, an embarrassed, breathy giggle, when my expression remained blank. "I mean a soda. I keep forgetting that's what you call it here. I'm originally from Ohio. Did I tell you my name yet? I'm sorry, how rude of me. I'm Bridget."

Her small talk floated around in my head, not making much sense. I pointed at the picture ID that was fastened to her pink nurse's uniform - it sported the name Bridget Holmes in neat black print. Her cheeks reddened and I felt kinda bad for her. I could tell she was new at this, so I made an effort to speak and ease her nervousness. "I've never been to Ohio."

"Oh, it's... well, it's not that impressive. There are some good amusement parks, if you like that sort of thing." She went on, telling me about the town where she grew up and a bunch of other stuff I knew was just to occupy my attention. I let her ramble, following her lead like an obedient puppy dog as we made our way around the hospital to deposit my coat and grab a soda. I was sipping slowly from a can of Coca-Cola, a beverage Maggie disapproved of and considered addictive, letting the strong liquid cool my dry throat, when Bridget started asking questions about my parents and their whereabouts. I breathed a sigh of relief when I avoided meeting her gaze and saw Scott wandering around the front desk. He hadn't even entered my thoughts since the paramedics closed the ambulance doors and sped down Astrid Street.

"My parents are out of town. On business. We're expecting them back Christmas day," I said with such a natural air I knew she'd buy it. My next fib would be a bit more complicated if she didn't keep quiet around Scott, but I went ahead with it anyway. "Eric and I are staying with a family friend. He's right over there." Before she could quiz me any further, I set aside my Coke and hurried over to Scott. He was saying my brother's name to the desk clerk but cut it short when he saw me.

"Man, I'm sorry. I woulda been here sooner, but I got caught in traffic. How's the kid?" His eyes were big and troubled, his tone concerned. Seeing him like that stirred my already rattled emotions and I welled up with tears.

"He got hit by a car." I choked on the rest of my answer, drifting into his embrace and nuzzling his warm chest. I needed him to hold me. For once I longed to be treated as a child, cradled and comforted by someone I could rely on. When his arms hugged me tight I let go of the burden of being an adult and sank against him to weep. Bridget had followed me and I felt her hesitant touch rub my trembling back as if she also knew how much I needed to be stroked and soothed right then. I wished it was my mother's hand. The hand that could caress you one minute or deliver a startling smack the next.

"Eric's stable. The doctor's with him now," Bridget explained to Scott what I couldn't. "We should know more soon."

I'm not sure how long I stood there wrapped in my Scott and Bridget cocoon. It was peaceful and secure, so I knew it wouldn't last forever. Sure enough, we were divided back into three separate people when the gray haired doctor who was taking care of Eric cleared his throat and singled me out with the eyes that matched his hair.

"Your brother's asking for you." My anxiousness rose visibly and the doctor continued, directing much of what he said to Scott, "He's doing just fine, considering. Most of the injuries are minor, though he did suffer a broken leg and a concussion that's resulted in some inflammation and swelling around his brain. We'll need to keep a close watch on that. He'll have to stay for observation until it's gone down... Are you the father?"

The caffeine from my soda must have kicked in that very moment, because my pulse rocketed so fast I felt a little woozy. "My dad's not here," I said, too quickly.

"I'm... a friend," Scott added.

"Oh." The doctor glanced at Bridget, and I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me as she spoke.

"Abby and Eric's folks are out of town, Doctor Blake. The kids have been staying with Mister..."

I kept my gaze focused on my feet as Scott said his last name. "Thomas."

"They're staying with Mr. Thomas but expect their parents back by Christmas day." Bridget flashed me a smile, proud of herself for remembering my story. I didn't let on that I wanted to deck her.

"I see. Well, the parents should be notified. Do you have a way to get in touch with them?" He was looking right at me. My cheeks burned.

"I'll, uh- I'll take care of that," Scott interrupted. My hero. I hated that he was lying for me but loved him for doing it. I thanked him with my eyes and hoped he understood.

*

Eric's pasty face brightened when he saw me. He looked pathetic lying there in his hospital gown with a million tubes and wires stuck to his body. Doctor Blake had explained what some of the machines were for so I wouldn't be frightened, but it was far too late for that. I approached the bed timidly and we stared at each other, my eyes wide and anxious, Eric's groggy and clouded over from his ordeal and the medication. Bridget had accompanied me into the room while the doctor spoke with Scott; I looked at her for permission now. "Can I touch him?"

"Of course." She gave me an encouraging smile.

I cupped my hand carefully around Eric's and tried to think of something to say. This was my brother. I'd spent practically every single day of the past ten years with him. I'd held him in my lap when he was just a baby and I was barely out of diapers myself. Maggie said I even tried to get him to call me Mommy for awhile. And then as we got older I resented him for breaking my toys or never leaving me alone, but I always made sure he had a bedtime story and a goodnight kiss whether or not Maggie participated. When he outgrew that I showed my affection by calling him "doofus" or "butthead," then catching him off guard with a hug he'd groan about. We'd whiled away countless hours playing make-believe games or planning schemes to cheer Maggie when she was depressed. We'd hid behind the couch together the time our father came home drunk and had a screaming match with Maggie, who he was convinced had cheated on him. We'd lied to keep each other out of trouble, we'd tattled to gain favor over one another. We were an inseparable pair, bound in our secrets and scars and all the good times in between. A lot of history to be shared by any two people - and I didn't know what to say to him.

"Abby, what do they do with your clothes when you die?" His perpetually animated features were serious. He looked three years old again, asking me why the sky was blue or why Mommy wouldn't come out of her room to see the picture he'd drawn for her. "Did they give mine to someone else?"

Unprepared for such a question, I blinked dumbly. He thought he was dead. To assure us both of his realness, I laid his hand flat on his chest, my palm covering it. That way he could feel his heart beat and I was once again certain of the breathing, the inhale and exhale that moved our hands up and down, that meant life. "You're not dead, Eric," I said softly, like a louder tone might make it untrue. "You got hurt, but you're not dead."

"Something hit me, I think." He strained to remember, the skin on his forehead puckering.

"A car," I told him. On the way to Eric's room Scott had filled me in on what Mr. Goran knew about the accident. The hit-and-run, actually. The car was blue. The driver didn't even stop to see if Eric was okay. Mr. Goran, the only witness, hadn't caught the license plate number. He had made the call for an ambulance. For that I was grateful, but I wouldn't forget his threat of making another type of call. Had he meant it? I wasn't sure and I decided there was no sense in worrying about it now. My brother was more important. "What were you doing out in the street? You were supposed to stay in the apartment till Scott and I came back."

"You were gone a long time. I got bored."

"So you thought you'd spice things up with a trip to the hospital?"

At last he smiled at one of my jokes. I allowed myself the same respite and bent to kiss him cautiously on the temple. I guess it reminded him of Maggie.

"What if Mom gets back before we do?"

"Don't worry, Scott's gonna take care of all that," I said, warning him not to say more with a glance in Bridget's direction and a subtle shake of my head. I knew he'd catch on. We were pros at keeping everyone in the dark during Maggie's absences. We didn't want to end up like those kids in the TV movies of the week who got split up and shipped to foster homes where they cut off your hair and beat you.

We talked some more until Eric started to doze off in the middle of conversation. I was pretty tired as well, but I insisted on staying with him. Scott stayed too, even though I told him it was all right if he left. We didn't get the chance to be alone so I could explain and apologize for dragging him into my deceitfulness. Bridget kept me wired on Cokes and chocolate bars the whole time and I put up a good fight when sleepiness tried to overwhelm me, but around 10:30pm I felt myself losing to heavy eyelids and a droopy head that jolted me awake when it fell from side to side. In that strange subconscious place between sleep and wakefulness I heard Scott telling Dr. Blake he'd take me home. I was too far gone to object.

There was a blissful weightless feeling of being lifted and then my head found the supporting, if somewhat bony, pillow of Scott's shoulder. He carried me like grown-ups carry small children, front to front in a tangle of arms and legs. As my senses gave way completely, I slipped into a dream that was more of a memory: I'm five years old and my father is holding me. My short arms are stretched to fit around his neck, thin little bird legs wrapped around his waist. Maggie walks beside us, pushing Eric in a stroller. It must be a trip to the park because I see lots of children playing together on swings and slides. But I don't want to join them. They're having their fun, but they don't even know half the joy I feel as I hold onto my daddy and his belly jiggles because he and my mommy are laughing. That's one of my secrets. When we're like this, I know I've got the best family in the world.