The Heart's Choice. Joyce Livingston

I guess you didn’t hear me. I—I want you to know how sorry I am. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been injured. Honest, I did everything I could to avoid the accident, but there wasn’t anything I could do. The truck just kept barreling down the road.”

      Accident! This must be the man I heard earlier. Tavia concentrated with all her might, trying to bring up any details of an accident that might be buried deep within her mind. Why was she having so much trouble keeping things straight? And, she hurt. Oh, how she hurt. Just the slightest movement was sheer agony. Pain. Why doesn’t someone give me something for the pain?

      “You were looking up at me through the rear window of that SUV.” The man in the wheelchair paused as a tear tumbled down his cheeks. “I—I figured you wouldn’t make it. But, praise God, you did!”

      If only she could get the words out, ask him about the couple who had given her a ride, but she couldn’t. Something deep in her throat prevented it.

      The man worked his wheelchair up close to her bed, then carefully placed a hand on her arm. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the accident. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’d better leave now, but I’ll be back. You do what the doctor says so you can get well. I’ll be praying for you.” With that, he maneuvered the chair from the room.

      Tavia watched him go. All my life no one has cared if I lived or died, now three strangers are concerned about me. Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, she felt herself sinking, ever so slowly, backward. But this time was different. The pit wasn’t pulling her down, she just felt tired. Sleepy. Sl-ee-py.