Rayna tried feeling.
She tried to know that the pavement was pounding beneath her feet, probably sending shockwaves to her knees that would radiate violent stiffness in the next 24 hours.
She tried to care that she was never, ever a runner and that her inexperienced breathing techniques were probably doing her more harm than good. Hell, she tried to remind herself that she was even breathing at all.
She failed at all of it.
She felt nothing; knew nothing. She cared about nothing but getting through those doors—those awful, robotic, uninviting doors.
The name Vanderbilt was synonymous for so many with wealth, privilege, and excellence. For her it just meant cold. She knew the second she got through she would be unable to feel anything; she knew her blood would run so frigid she would have actual ice pumping through her body. She knew everything would feel like hell; like death.
She finally reached them.
It felt like it took hours for them to open, but the second she was inside she realized she had nowhere to go. She'd ran so far, so hard, and so fast but for nothing—no one was there to meet her and she couldn't gather the sense to go somewhere and ask where she was supposed to go. She felt confused and scared. She was the epitome of lost.
"Ms. Jaymes?"
Her stomach dropped. Here it was—the moment that meant none of this was a nightmare; the moment it became so very real.
She slowly turned her head to face her caller—a tall, fairly slender but still muscular trooper with salt-and-pepper hair and a gray mustache. His eyes were caring; his face careworn but soft.
"I'm Trooper Caylor. I believe we spoke on the phone."
She approached him apprehensively, still trying to force the notion that this was not happening.
"Yes. I'm Rayna Jaymes. Is Maddie—"
The man gently touched her shoulder and smiled sadly.
"Ma'am, we have a private room ready for you. If you'd like to go there we can—"
There were no tears, but there was trembling. Her voice had somehow become more powerful than her physical being as she swatted the man's hand away.
"No! You're not taking me into some room just so you can tell me she's dead. You're gonna have the guts to tell me right here."
"Ms. Jaymes," he began. "Your daughter hasn't passed, but she was in a very serious accident. She's in surgery right now."
Rayna let out a breath and stared stoically at the trooper.
"So she's okay?"
"Ma'am, the doctors will have to update you on her condition. If you'll let me take you into a private area, maybe get you some coffee, I do have some questions—"
"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not going into a room?"
Rayna gritted her teeth, watching as he offered her an apologetic smile. She shook her head violently.
"I'm sorry. I know, you're just trying to make me comfortable but I really can't go in there. Not by myself."
"Do you have anyone we can call for you?"
She shook her head again, processing the question.
"No. My ex-husband is rushing back from Raleigh and her father's on his way. Please, I just need to know what's going on."
Caylor sighed and lowered his voice for the sake of discretion.
"The crash happened in Arrington. She was the passenger in a newer model Audi—"
"She doesn't know anyone with an Audi. And she wouldn't be in Arrington. She was going to a movie with her friend Talia."
"Ms. Jaymes, this is just what we know."
Rayna sighed, continuing to suppress all violent emotion.
"The driver was a 22 year old male named Ryan Frizzell. We do have reason to believe alcohol was a factor in the crash."
Rayna pursed her lips and closed her eyes. Something… there was something so incredibly wrong with all of this. It wasn't right. Her little girl didn't go on secret joyrides with older boys—and her little girl certainly didn't drink. She knew the dangers; she was well aware of what damage it could do. She knew better.
Everything was cloudy.
She opened her eyes as the trooper's radio began to garble something at him. He spoke into it, looking back up at her with another apology on his face.
"I'm sorry, if you can excuse me please I need to make a phone call. Are you sure there's nothing I can get for you or anywhere I can take you while you wait?"
Rayna shook her head, offering the best gracious smile she could muster. It wasn't much.
"No, thank you."
She watched as he walked away, leaving her in the entrance of the hospital all alone. People were coming and going; stopping at the information desk, but she was alone.
Her thoughts and every fear permeated her from the inside out and she was sure she was losing control, but she couldn't. Not here and not like this.
She had to be strong for Maddie, where ever she was. She had to focus on her prayers. She needed to get down on her knees and beg God for mercy for her sweet girl.
So she went to the chapel.
Rayna marveled in the silence and the comfort it brought.
She'd found that a time like this could make it so very easy to question, but she chose to question nothing and believe everything.
She chose to believe that her God was merciful, as while he had not delivered her own mother from such a biting fate, he had delivered her. She had been at his door in this very hospital, but he chose to give her another chance.
She'd thanked him not so long ago for her blessings; she'd thanked him for letting her live, but now here she was… on her knees not only thanking, but begging.
A quiet creaking interrupted her and she instinctively raised her head and turned it towards the sound.
And there he was.
His face was pale; his eyes solemn. Beads of cold sweat formed at his brow line from running relentlessly down the halls to seek her out.
She stood, finally allowing a single tear to slide down her cheek.
It would have been easy for them to awkwardly keep their distance.
It would have been easy for her to say out loud that God had given them both a second chance and she had effortlessly foiled it.
It would have been easy for her to beg him again and again to take her back after she had mangled his heart and he rightfully walked away from her once and for all.
It would have been so easy for her to admit that she was wrong about everything; that she was too little too late.
But it was even easier to forget all that.
It was easy for her to run to him.
It was easy for him to clutch her for dear life as she screamed, finally letting the anguish overtake her for the first time since receiving that gutwrenching phone call.
The two of them slid to the floor, both completely overcome with grief for their daughter. She gripped his shirt, asking why over and over and over while he buried his face in her hair, whispering with an unwavering uncertainty that everything was going to be alright.