Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
She pulled at my arm and we raced around the linoleum corridor, past a nurses’ station. Autumn ushered me through a curtain.
There sat Bethany, in a hospital gown but fully conscious and smiling, a nurse by her side taking her temperature.
“Daddy,” she said, beaming at me. “You’re here. Not at work.”
Relief erupted in my veins at the sight of my beautiful daughter. Nothing was better than this, I said to myself. Being with Bethany was everything I needed. It was why I put up with work, why I vowed not to date. Why I breathed in and out. It was all about this little one with the gangly legs and shiny curls.
“They say she’s fine,” Autumn said from beside me.
“I want to speak to a doctor,” I muttered before stepping toward the bed and lightly pressing my lips to Bethany’s forehead. She looked okay, but I had to push down the urge to scoop her up and hold her as close as possible.
“How are you feeling, my darling?”
“Do you have snacks?” she asked.
Well, that was a good sign.
“She’s fine, Mr. Chase. Just a bump to the head is all,” the nurse said cheerily. “We’re going to keep her for a few hours just for observation.”
“I want to speak to the doctor.”
“They’ll be in when they’re free.” The nurse smiled, filled in something on a chart, and then left. Bethany smiled, glanced at Autumn, and held out her hand for something.
Autumn glanced at me. “I gave her the iPad. The doctor said it was fine. I know she’s not supposed—”
“It’s okay,” I replied.
Autumn handed Bethany the tablet and she set about doing whatever she did on it, which always seemed to involve feeding cartoon food to cartoon dogs.
“What happened?” I said, taking a seat next to Autumn, trying to show her and myself that I was fine. Calm. Relaxed.
“They were all lined up, sitting at the edge of the pool, ready to do sitting dives—”
“I fell in, Daddy,” Bethany said, looking up from the tablet.
“She tried to stop herself from falling and ended up turning and banging her head on the side,” Autumn explained. “Then she went down.”
The bile in my stomach rose again. I should have been there. “No more swimming lessons for you,” I said. I might even look into home schooling. I needed to keep her safe.
Bethany looked up from the tablet. “I like swimming,” she replied, frowning.
Autumn’s phone went off beside us and she opened up a message. “It’s from Hollie,” she replied. “She’s nearly here. She’s bringing me some clothes.”
I turned to look at Autumn properly and noticed her hair plastered to her head. “Are you . . . wet?”
She shrugged. “From the pool.”
“I thought you didn’t get in the pool with her?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t usually. I saw what was happening. Bethany was practicing her diving position but was getting closer to the edge. The instructors were preoccupied with the student diving.” Her eyes started to fill with tears and then she cleared her throat. “She should have swimming lessons. It’s important for her safety. But I don’t want to take her back there.”
I glanced from Autumn to Bethany, but Bethany was preoccupied by her virtual dogs. She wasn’t taking any notice of either of us. I took a closer look at Autumn. It wasn’t just her hair that was wet. Her clothes were soaking. “You went in after her.”
She nodded. “I knew I could get to her first.”
“And thank goodness she did,” a woman said from behind us as someone opened the curtain. “I’m Doctor Todd,” she said and stepped into bay. “The fact that Bethany was breathing when she was pulled out of the water means she’s going to be just fine. We need to keep an eye on her, but you can take her home soon. She’s had none of the indicators of severe concussion other than her being passed out for a minute or so. She was conscious by the time the ambulance team arrived.” The doctor glanced at Bethany and then focused on me. “You don’t need to worry.”
“Then humor me and tell me what makes you say that.”
“She didn’t inhale any water. Didn’t require resuscitation. She’s had no bleeding or fluid leaking from her mouth or ears. She hasn’t been sick and doesn’t feel sick. She’s alert. Lucid. No headache. No bruising. She has none of the symptoms of a severe concussion apart from a lump on her head and a brief moment of unconsciousness. But as I said, we’ll keep her under observation for the next few hours and then you can take her home.”
“Please may I have snacks?” Bethany asked.
“I’ll get someone to bring you something,” the doctor said.
“She can eat and drink as normal?” I asked.
“Absolutely. Like I said, if she’d inhaled the water when she went into the pool, it might be a different story.” The doctor swept out and I turned to Autumn.