Windy fidgeted. She glanced at her watch.
“Have to be somewhere, Ms. Berry?” Murry Durrin entered, closing the door to his office. An office Windy had never visited and didn’t want to be here now.
Durrin stepped behind his ornate desk. Spinning his chair around, he flopped down. Windy had a fleeting thought the desk chair would cost her a week’s salary. And the desk a month’s pay.
She cleared her throat. “No…no …sir. I have to pick my daughter up from school,” Windy stammered.
Durrin raised his head, his eyes narrowed. “I thought your daughter died?”
Windy was determined not to cry. A tear trickled down her cheek. “My younger daughter passed away last week. I have…had two daughters.”
“Yeah well.” Durrin said, truly uncomfortable with the subject. He shifted some papers on his desk. He held up one. “I have here a complaint signed by your supervisor.” He waved it at her. “It says here you stole a bottle of very expensive medicine.” He lay the paper on his desk. Leaning back in his desk chair, he said. “How do you explain this?”
Windy swallowed. Murry Durrin had a reputation for being a hard man with no sentiments. “I…I thought it would help my daughter.” Her tears spilled over. “I had researched on line and found several testimonials. It was so expensive. I was going to pay it back a little at a time. But…”
“But you got caught, and it clearly did not help your daughter. I could call the police.”
“Oh, please Mr. Durrin. I‘ll pay it back.” She pulled the prescription bottle from her pants suit pocket. “She only took a few.” She set the bottle on his desk. He swept it off with the back of his hand. It flew crossed the room, hitting the wall, fell to the floor and lay still.
“You can pick up your paycheck on the way out. You’re fired.”
“Please Mr. Durrin, I need this job.”
“You should have thought of that before you stole from me.”
Windy dissolved into tears. The very tears she swore she would not shed. “Mr. Durrin I’ve worked here for five years. I thought the medicine would help my daughter.”
He looked up at her with those steely gray eyes. His lips set in a firm, straight line. He set back in his chair. “Well, it didn’t. Now she’s dead and your fired. Get out of my office.”
Wendy stumbled for the door. “Oh, and Ms. Berry. You will be required to pay for this bottle of pills.” He pointed to the bottle laying on the floor. “And if you refuse the repay the amount of five thousand two hundred dollars by…’ He glanced at his watch. He pointed to the bottle lying on the floor, giving her a sadistic smile. “If you refuse to repay the amount of five thousand two hundred dollars by the 15th, we will arrest and charge you with theft,” he warned.
The strength going out of her knees, Wendy grasped the doorknob for support. “But…but…Mr. Durrin, I already paid for the funeral with all my savings. I have nothing left. The 15th is next Monday.”
“One week Ms. Berry. No more, no less. Goodbye.”
Windy stumbled past the office workers. Were they looking at her with contempt or pity? She couldn’t tell. She hung her head.
The hospital bills and the funeral home ate up what little she had managed to save. The doctors did all they could, but still it wasn’t enough.
Setting in her car, she hung her head over the steering wheel and let the pent-up tears flow.
Her mind went back to the last few minutes of 3-year-old Chloe’s life.
“Momma.” They were alone in Chloe’s room at the hospital. Mrs. Halbert was taking care of her other daughter, Faith. Her little girl looked up at her mother, her skin almost as white as the sheets.
“Yes, sweetheart?” Windy said to Chloe, as soothing as she could make it. The doctor said the time was near. She dabbed at her eyes determined not to breakdown Infront of her little girl.
“Who’s that bright man by the window?” Windy glanced at the window and saw nothing. She turned back to see Chloe breathe her last breath. A smile covering her face.
Now Durrin had fired her from the position she had held for five years. And unless she could come up with five thousand dollars, she was going to jail. If they arrested her, what would happen to Faith?
Drying her eyes, Windy started the car and headed for the school. Arriving a few minutes late, she saw 6-year-old Faith setting on the steps. A teacher set beside her. Windy fought to put a smile on her face. Faith waited for the car to stop, as her mother had taught her. The teacher, Judy Markem, came up to the car. She opened the passenger side door for Faith, then stepped around to the driver’s side door.
“Hi honey. Did you have a good day?” Windy said. She noticed tears in her daughter’s eyes.
“It was ok I guess,” Faith said, hanging her head.
“Miss Berry, could I speak with you for a second, please?” Judy said.
“Of course.” She smiled at Faith. “I’ll be right back.”
A safe distance from the car, Judy Said. “Faith is having a rough time reconciling to her sister’s death. I found her this afternoon crying in the girl’s bathroom.”
“I know it’s been hard on her.” Windy said. What she didn’t tell Judy was last night after her daughter was asleep, she went into Faith’s bedroom. One of Chloe’s favorite dolls was locked in Faith’s arms.”
“The death of a loved one can be very traumatic for the remaining sibling. With your permission, I’ll make an appointment with the school counselor.” Judy said with a concerned expression.
“Of course. Thank you. Chloe’s death was very hard on both of us,” Windy said. Judy nodded. She walked around the back of the car and up the steps to the school.
“Mommy, do you think Chloe is in heaven?” Faith asked. Watching her mother’s face. Windy smiled a genuine smile. “Yes honey, I think your sister is still setting on Jesus’ lap.”
“I think so too.” Faith was silent for a few more seconds. “I like to think of her there.” She whispered. Windy waited for the bus to move so she could enter the flow of traffic.
The brake line on Gary Bula‘s dump truck held through the drive to the gravel pit. The loading of rock and 15 miles. As he came by the elementary school, he pushed the brake pedal. It went all the way to the floor. Terror rode Gary’s heart. Now on a downhill grade, the truck seemed to pick up speed. Gary’s hands clenched the wheel. He tried to shift gears. All he succeeded in doing was putting the transmission into neutral. He was moving too fast. 80,000 pounds of death. He hit the horn. Maybe, just maybe, they would hear it. He screamed, his worst nightmare coming true. “Stay back, stay back.” He would not make the stop sign. He flew through it. A bus full of laughing children pulled on to the street right in front of him. “No, no, no!” He screamed, tears flowing down his cheeks. Gary turned the wheel. Clipping the bus, he spun it around, tipping it. The screaming voices of 25 children assaulted his ears. He shot over the curb. His dump truck flying like a bullet.
Windy watched horrified as the dump truck hit the rear corner of the bus. It swung around, almost tipping over. The grill of the dump truck filled her vision. Wendy just had time to grasp Faith's hand. Then she was flying with Faith at her side. Seconds later, they were in heaven, hugging Chloe.
He saw the woman in the driver’s seat glance at him. Gary screamed. “Oh, no, please God.” Then the truck hit the car, smashing it, running over it.
Alerted by the explosion of the truck hitting the bus and car, Judy Markem whirled. She watched in horror. Spinning the bus around, the dump truck hit the old Ford like a battering ram. Then crushed it beneath its wheels. She screamed, knowing Windy and Faith were dead. There was a loud boom as the truck hit the wall of the school. Bricks showered all around her. One clipping her arm. Only later did she notice an enormous bruise where the brick hit. Knocked off her feet, she jumped up. Running, she flew down the steps and came up to what used to be Windy’s car. All she could see was blood mixed with the medal.
Jumping from the cab of his destroyed dump truck, Gary stumbled to the wreckage of the car. “I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t stop. The brakes gave out. I killed them, I killed them.”
Judy looked at him. “Yes, you did.” She said woodenly. They went to check on the children from the bus. Only a few had suffered minor injuries.
The police, in reconstructing the accident and examining the truck, determined the brake line had just rotted. It took several hours for crews to extract the bodies from the old Ford. They took Gary Bula to the hospital and kept him under close observation. He kept repeating. “I killed them. I killed them.”
Murry Durrin, upon hearing of the accident, laughed uproariously. He was quoted as saying. “Well, that’s five thousand dollars down the drain.”
A half hour later, his secretary found him slumped over his desk. Dead from an apparent heart attack. The bottle of pills Windy had returned clutched in his right hand. Yet no one could explain the look of horror on his face.