Chapter 17 - The Crisis at Midnight
Peace, however, rarely lasts uninterrupted. Two weeks after Mrs. Gable's unexpected visit, a frantic pounding on my front door shattered the quiet of a freezing midnight.
I bolted awake, my heart hammering against my ribs. Matilda stirred in her crib next to my bed, letting out a sleepy whimper. Throwing on a heavy woolen robe, I sprinted down the stairs. The knocking grew more urgent, accompanied by a muffled voice calling my name.
I swung the door open, ready for an intruder, but found Vaughn standing on the porch, shivering violently in a thin hoodie, his face pale and contorted with panic.
"Vaughn? What on earth—?"
"Emmy, you have to come," he gasped, grabbing my arm. "It’s Dad. He collapsed at the house."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. "What do you mean collapsed? Is he breathing?"
"An ambulance took him to St. Mary’s in Richmond ten minutes ago," Vaughn said, his voice breaking. "Mom is hysterical. She called me from the back of the rig. Emmy... it was a massive heart attack. It happened right after they finished arguing with some local contractor who tried to drag our family name through the mud again over old gossip."
Panic threatened to paralyze me, but the muscle memory of crisis kicked in. I ran upstairs, scooped a half-asleep Matilda out of her crib, wrapped her in a thick winter blanket, and texted Zora in a single frantic sentence: Emergency. Can you run over? My dad is in the hospital.
Before I could even lock the door, Zora’s front porch light flickered on, and she was already crossing the street in her bathrobe and winter boots, her face fierce with determination. "Go. I’ve got Tilly. Don't worry about a thing."
I handed my daughter over, kissed her forehead, and bolted to my car.
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During the frantic drive across the bridge, my mind raced through every memory—the chipped gravy boat, the metal folding chair, the cruel laughter during my labor, but also the clumsy way he held Matilda, the way he tore down his own pride to apologize at my studio, and the way he finally learned to be a father.
You can't die yet, Dad, I muttered, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. We just fixed everything.
