Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [52]
Coach Henry glanced the boys’ way, giving them an encouraging thumbs-up sign.
“Okay, Mom and Dad, one of you may ride with us. Decide who that’ll be.” Rich gave both of them a serious look, his voice a distinct command. He began organizing the men around Charlie, giving precise instructions to lift as gently as possible. “On the count of three: one, two, three.”
Charlie cried out in pain again and clutched his mom’s hand.
As the paramedics wrapped a blanket around Charlie, Fran gave her husband a steely look. In a tone that broached no argument, she firmly stated, “I’m going with him.”
Charles merely nodded back, followed Charlie with his eyes as they lifted him into the ambulance. As Fran climbed in, she didn’t glance back once at Charles. It was Liz, finally, who looked at him with a reassuring smile. “We’ll take good care of him.” And then Rich shut the doors.
Charles stood there, mute, seemingly paralyzed, until Pastor Greg squeezed his arm just above the elbow. “I sure don’t want to interfere, Mr. Thomason. But can I take you to the hospital? Would that be of help?”
Still unresponsive, Charles stared at him dumbly for a moment, as though not recognizing Greg. “Um, I have my car. I can drive myself.”
“Are you sure? We could get someone else to drive your car. To the hospital, I mean.” Greg still had a hand on Charles’s arm, was carefully choosing his words. “I just thought you might want someone with you right now.”
Greg watched Charles hesitate again, noted how the usually commanding man appeared incapable of making a decision. He forged ahead, taking charge of the situation. “Come on, my car’s right over here.” Greg steered him toward the parking lot, waving over Dave, Erik’s dad. “Hey, Dave. I’m going to drive Mr. Thomason to the hospital. Would you drive his car over later? Great. Oh, and Dave,” Greg said, glancing at Charles. He still appeared to be mute in his shock. “If you all would say a prayer for Charlie, I know Mr. and Mrs. Thomason would appreciate that.”
Charles forcibly blinked his eyes, rousing himself. “Oh, yes. We would. Thanks, Dave.”
Dave reached out to give Charles a quick hug before taking the keys from him. “Let us know if there’s anything else we can do, okay?” Motioning behind him to include the other parents, he added, “I know I speak for all of us. We’ll want to check on Charlie later at the hospital. And … do anything we can to help. Anything at all. Just let us know, okay?”
Charles nodded, mumbling his thanks and then, head down and shoulders hunched, followed Greg. For a man virtually always in the lead, Charles was nearly unrecognizable.
As they settled into Greg’s car, Charles seemed to collect himself a bit. Shaking off his lassitude, he ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. He cleared his throat before saying, “I do appreciate this, Greg. For a minute there, I couldn’t … think clearly. I’ve seen plenty of broken bones in my day. But never have I seen a break like that before. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”
“Why it broke? Or why it broke that badly?”
“Both. He didn’t hit anybody. The goal post. Nothing. I can’t imagine why it would break from Charlie simply kicking the ball.”
“Doesn’t make much sense, does it?”
They drifted to other topics: church and the latest talk about expanding. Charles seemed eager to shift their discussion to safer subjects—anything but Charlie—and Greg understood his need to do so.
As they were turning into the hospital parking lot, however, Greg offered, “I want to tell you, Mr. Thomason—”
“Why don’t you call me Charles?”
“Thanks, I’d like that. Just so you know, Charlie’s one of the main leaders in the junior high youth group. He’s a great kid, all the way around. Really looks up to you. Wants to be just like you.”
Not meeting Greg’s gaze. “I would think he’d talk more about his mother.”
“Hmm. Nope. It’s you