It ought to be a joyful time for Dr. Sara Alderson. Her daughter, Lizzie, is about to graduate college, and marry her longtime boyfriend. But the family’s happiness is shattered when a drunk driver seriously injures her teenage son in a hit-and-run accident.
Now, instead of planning her daughter’s wedding, Sara must fight to save her son’s life. And when she discovers who the drunk driver was – someone she thought was a colleague and a friend – she has to fight her desire for revenge. Because Sara knows she has the power to visit the driver’s dreams, and in those dreams, she holds the power of life and death.
Dream Wedding is the tenth and final book of the Dream Series
Read an excerpt:
For an instant, I’m paralyzed. I don’t move, don’t speak, don’t do anything except feel my heart start to rip itself apart. My son is unconscious, injured, possibly…
No. He’s not. It’s not my medical training that takes hold, but the memory of the horrible storm a decade ago, the memory of Will Harper standing in the doorway, carrying my unconscious husband in his arms. I saved Brian, and whatever happened to Ben, whatever his injuries might be, I’ll save him, too.
I hear myself shouting out for Mark and Amanda, the orderly and the night nurse, the only other two people on duty at the moment. I let Denise lead me to the car, and I hear footsteps behind me. I don’t look back to see who it is. “Bring a gurney! And get the entire staff in here. Dr. Bates, Dr. Pierce, all the nurses. Wake them up, get them here now.”
I’m at the car now. Denise opens the driver’s side rear door, and I the first thing I see – thank God – is that my son is breathing. Not easily, not evenly, but he’s alive. His face is bruised, his shirt is torn and bloody, and his left leg – I hear a string of curses that must come out of my mouth. But all I can do right now is curse. I can’t do anything until we get him out of the car, and I don’t dare move him by myself. If he’s got spinal injuries, I could make them worse. I could cripple him for life.
If he’s not already.
I turn to Denise, and it takes a supreme effort of will not to scream at her. Why on earth did she move him? Why didn’t she call an ambulance? She could have killed him! I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake some answers out of her – but she’s already talking. I close my eyes for a moment, force myself to listen.
“…move somebody. I know that. You taught us, I remember the first aid class you did back in freshman year. But he was bleeding, and my phone was dead, and nobody was coming on the road, nobody was coming, I swear! And I couldn’t find Ben’s phone, I don’t know what happened to it. I looked, but it was so dark, and I didn’t want to leave him just laying there on the road! I had to do something, so I moved him, I got him in the car and I came straight here.”
It’s not her fault. It’s not her fault. It’s not her fault.
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