Chapter 1

The weather had been quite cold for the small city of Trenton in southern Ontario for this time of year, and Dan Hayward was already using his outdoor swimming pool as a skating rink. The heavy snow continued to fall as Dan walked past the last two houses on Station Street to his parked car. He enjoyed walking along this street and others in the area of older homes, no matter what time of year it was. The land was nice and flat compared to the hilly area where he lived.

A road construction detour, last November had put him on this usually quiet street, and now Dan considered Station Street to be the most beautiful street in town, next to his. Each home was the old-fashioned, stately, two-story design that he liked. Many of the homes were decorated with Christmas lights, taking advantage of the early winter, with each house looking as if it came right out of a magazine.

He let out a sigh of contentment as he cleared the snow off his 2006 yellow Mustang GT. He sometimes regretted buying a standard shift car, but the throaty rumble sound he gets from his modified muscle car made it worthwhile. Besides, the horsepower of the red beast sitting in his garage made summer driving more enjoyable.

“Practice what you preach,” he said as he bared the metal of his car to the early evening. This amount of snow for late November was unusual, and winter was still over a month away. Dan felt good that he put four snow tires on his trusted steed last weekend.

Dan Hayward’s six-foot height allowed him to clear the snow from the roof. At fifty-two, he was in good shape for his age. He enjoyed playing recreational hockey, took Tai Kwon Do lessons, did a little woodworking, and did some bowling in his spare time, but was missing female companionship. Dan had retired from the military after twenty-seven years and was now working as a bus driver for Metro Transit.

His dark brown hair was slightly greying at the temples, and his laugh lines were set in a little deeper now, framing his hazel green eyes. At his age, he still receives compliments about his looks and how he strongly resembles a forty-year-old Tom Hanks from his movies, Saving Private Ryan and You’ve Got Mail.

He was thankful the weather was clear this morning when he visited his wife’s gravesite. He had thought of going Christmas shopping after work for his three grandkids and grandson, but with the snow that had already fallen, he decided to go home, heat some leftovers, do some woodworking, and watch the hockey game on TV. He had only one more stop to make, to visit the two crosses, before heading home.

Dan turned right onto Jackson Boulevard, a busy four-lane road, and drove two blocks to the intersection of Jackson and Kent. He parked his car at Anderson’s variety store and turned off his car. In the silence, he could hear the beginning of ice pellets hitting the car, just as had been predicted. Dan leaned his head against his hands on the steering wheel, pushing his ball cap backward. Sorrow replaced the happiness of walking on Station Street.

November 22nd is widely remembered as the anniversary of President Kennedy’s assassination. It is the same day three years ago that his beloved wife, Laura, was killed at this very intersection. He can still recall the newspaper article about the accident in his mind as tears well in his eyes.

A tractor-trailer driver had missed a stop sign and collided with another tractor-trailer travelling on Jackson. The driver lost control, and the rig tipped over, landing on Laura’s car as she waited at a red light. The weight of the steel cargo crushed her car, instantly killing her and their dog Max. Laura had taken Max to the vet for his annual check-up and shots and was returning home. The accident also killed the man who was sitting in his car alongside Laura’s.

The truck that caused the first collision was determined to have faulty brakes. The trucking company had been fined before for similar infractions, and the monetary settlement for Dan’s out-of-court lawsuit settlement did little to make up for the loss of his beloved Laura. Tears freely flowed as Dan grieved once more for the loss of the love of his life. There was only one other woman Dan loved as much as Laura, but he had lost contact with her about five years ago.

Dan’s grief was interrupted by the blaring of a car horn, followed by the unmistakable sound of metal hitting metal. The last thing he heard was the scream of a woman cut short. Dan looked through the windshield and saw cars braking, desperately trying to stop on the slippery, snowy road. He got out of his car and ran to the street. He looked to his right and saw the accident scene.

He ran carefully on the slick road to the crumpled car sitting in the middle of the intersection. He noticed the hood and fenders of the Ford Fusion were crushed in, and steam was rising from the punctured radiator. The other vehicle, a Chrysler minivan, was on the other side of the intersection, its left rear suspended high on a snowbank.

Several people had already gathered around the first car as Dan approached. “Has anyone called 911?” He asked, peering in the driver’s window.

“I am right now,” a woman replied, holding a cell phone to her right ear.

A man pulled on the driver’s door, but it wouldn’t open. “Ma’am, unlock your car!” Dan yelled at her. She unlocked the door, and the man opened it. The airbags had deployed to cushion the impact, and her crying mixed with hysterical laughter.

“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. My baby was crying because she had dropped her bottle, and I was trying to pick it up off the floor and give it to her,” she explained. “It took the crash for her to finally be quiet,” she added, laughing and crying together.

“That’s okay ma’am; the reason why isn’t important right now,” Dan replied. “I know first aid, and I’m here to help you until the paramedics arrive.”

“The dispatcher says the ambulances will be here as soon as they can. The snow has really made it difficult to get around,” the woman said to Dan, closing her cell phone.

“Are you hurt?” Dan asked, reaching over and shutting off the car’s ignition.

“My head hurts, and my neck too,” she complained, placing her right hand behind her neck. “My stomach and right shin hurt too.”

He thought the tightening of the seatbelt during the collision could have injured her. “My name is Dan, what’s yours?”

“I’m Sarah.”

“Hi Sarah, you’ll be alright,” he said, trying to calm her.

Dan glanced behind the driver’s seat and looked at the baby. She was about a year old and sat quietly, looking curiously at all the strangers around her.

Dan peered through the passenger window across the intersection and saw the other driver getting out of her minivan. “Does anyone here know first aid?” He asked.

“I know a little,” a man answered, slightly raising his hand.

“What’s your name?”

“Bob.”

“Bob, can you go over and see how the driver of the minivan is?” Dan gestured with his head.

“Sure.”

“If anyone has a car parked close by, can you please move it so the police and paramedics can get in? I need you and you to keep the traffic going, so the road isn’t blocked.” Dan pointed, and the two men moved off quickly.

Dan’s years of military experience were evident as he took control of the accident scene until the police could arrive. Over the years, he had taken many first-aid courses. This was the first time he used his skills at a real accident scene. He could feel the thumping of his heart as he took several deep breaths, trying to calm down.

“Can you get in the back seat and sit with the baby until help arrives?” He asked another woman. Dan moved to the back seat behind the driver and gently held her head in place. “Okay, just stay like that,” he said, placing his hands on the sides of her head.

The woman helper gave the baby bottle to the girl and started talking to her. “Do you have any allergies or medical problems, Sarah?”

“No, I don’t.”

“What’s your baby’s name?”

“Cathy.”

“That’s a nice name. My daughter’s name is Cathy.”

The driver of the minivan was inspecting the damage to her vehicle when she let out a loud shriek. “Help, help over here!” The woman yelled.

Bob dashed around the back of the van, the woman pointing down at the sidewalk. “My van must have hit her when I spun out from the collision,” she said, beginning to sob. The man bent down and quickly observed the woman lying on the ground, then ran back to Dan.

“What is it?” Dan asked as Bob returned.

He whispered in Dan’s left ear, “The mini-van must have struck a woman on the sidewalk. I think she might be dead.”

“Here, you hold Sarah’s head just like this, and I’ll check it out.”

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked, looking worried.

“I’m just going to check on the driver of the other vehicle, that’s all,” Dan replied, not wanting to upset her even more. As Dan got out of the back seat, he bumped into the woman who had called 911. She could read the concern on Dan’s face.