Buried Yet Breathing11.

The dad chimed in, arms crossed as he stood leaning against the wall. “The amount of meals my wife served you, I swear it was enough for me to work two jobs.” They all laughed and for the first time since his arrival, Peter smiled.

“You were there, on the night she had her accident. The two of you had just finished racing her beloved remote controlled pink Cadillac that Harrison had built for her. And you, Peter… my husband had made a black Jeep for you. He said it was impenetrable to any obstacle and it sure did stand a lot of rollovers and smashups.” Miranda pulled out a wad of tissues and patted her eyes then continued. “I had gone into labor and with Harrison out of town for work, the two of you were hell bent on taking me to the hospital. With no other option, I climbed into the bike trailer which is designed for a toddler, maybe two.” Laughter erupted, and Peter also chuckled, on the edge of his seat as he listened.

Miranda’s voice wavered. “You towed me, Peter, with all the strength in your little nine year old legs. Savannah rode alongside me, constantly reminding me to breath. We rounded the corner on Maple, literally a half block away from the hospital. Before any of us could process…”

At this point, she wailed into her tissues. Harrison knelt beside her and held her, reassuring her that all was well. She dabbed at her watery eyes and kept going. “Before we knew what was happening, a car, from what seemed out of nowhere, hit Savannah from the side and kept driving. I remember hearing not only the sound of brakes but the bone chilling sound of her little metal bike being dragged for meters, with her young body pinned beneath, being torn to shreds.”

Both Ophelia and Olivia came to their mother’s side and hugged her, as they openly wept. They knew this story word for word, though not being there but in hearing it retold many times.

Harrison continued where his wife could not. “But consider this amazing part of the story though, Pete. You managed to swerve, while controlling your bike and the load behind you,” he said this with a big smile, through his own tears painting his stubbly face. ”You made it to the ER. Because of you, not only was my wife untouched but my twin daughters you see here today were able to come into this world, happy and healthy! You are a hero; our hero.”

They all touched Peter, whether an arm or leg. Miranda full-on hugged him and at that moment, Peter began to sob.

“I do remember her! Blond and always smiling, with that dimple on her cheek!” Peter took a tissue and dried his eyes. “Can we talk more tomorrow? I want to hear more. I want to remember.”

They filed out of the darkened room and Peter laid back, pulling the covers tight to his chest.

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