Choices (A Joyful Cup Story)
In a horrifying moment of inattention on a dark morning, lives change forever.

Chapter 1 of Choices (A Joyful Cup Story) by Jacquelyn Lynn.
“911. Do you need police, fire, or medical?”
“A car hit a bicycle. The guy on the bike bounced over the car. They just drove away.”
The caller was breathless as he ran toward the bleeding man lying on the road, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. His headlights pierced the pre-dawn darkness, shining like a spotlight on a sickening scene that was in stark contrast to the sweet night air and a world that was beginning to wake up.
“What is your location?” The dispatcher’s voice was cool, crisp, almost detached.
“Not sure. I’m on State Road 434. Heading west.”
“What’s the last thing you remember passing?”
“An apartment complex. I’m on that stretch where it’s just woods. No street lights.” He scanned the area for landmarks that would help.
“Are you near the pedestrian overpass?”
“I think so. I haven’t passed it yet. I’m east of it. Not far.” Holding his phone in one hand, he pulled off his jacket with the other, knelt next to the cyclist, and covered the injured man’s torso.
“The police are on their way.” The dispatcher’s voice was reassuring. “Are you with the person who was hit?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to transfer you to Fire Rescue. Stay on the line, sir. Do not hang up.”
“Okay.”
After a few endless seconds, another brisk voice came on the line. “Fire Rescue.”
The 911 dispatcher spoke briskly. “Police are en route to a car versus bicycle with injuries. Caller does not have an exact location. They are on State Road 434 approximately one-half mile east of the pedestrian overpass.”
“Got it. Caller, this is Fire Rescue. What is your location?”
“What? I gave my location to the other operator. This guy needs help. Now!”
“I understand, sir. We need to be sure we know where you are so we can get people there to assist you.” The Fire Rescue dispatcher spoke dispassionately.
“I’m on 434, heading west. I’m just past the large apartment complex that’s the last one before the woods. On the north side of the street. My car’s in the right lane with the headlights and emergency flashers on. It’s a white Ford mustang.” A car drove past in the left lane, slowed, then accelerated, its taillights fading in the distance.
“Are you with the victim?”
“Yes.”
“Is he conscious?”
“No. I don’t think so. His eyes are closed. He’s got a helmet on but his face is bloody and he’s moaning. Hey, fella, can you hear me?” A pause. “He’s not responding.”
“But he’s breathing?”
“Yes.” The injured man’s chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. In the distance, a siren wailed, growing louder as the emergency vehicle approached. “Dude, can you hear that? The ambulance is coming. You’re going to be okay.”
“Is he bleeding anywhere other than his face?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think he’s bleeding anywhere else. It’s hard to see. I just saw him fly over the car and land on the pavement. I had to slam on my brakes to keep from hitting him, too.” His hands were trembling as he gripped his phone.
“I understand. Don’t move him. Paramedics are on their way. Stay on the line until they arrive and let me know if anything changes.”
“Okay.” The sound of the first siren increased in volume and was joined by another in a cacophony punctuated by horn blasts. Blue and red flashing lights advanced rapidly.
The 911 dispatcher spoke. “Fire Rescue, may I interrupt?”
“Go ahead.”
“The police are almost there, sir. Did you see the vehicle that hit the bike?”
“All I saw were the taillights. The car stopped for a few seconds, then it took off.”
“Heading west on 434?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I wish I’d gotten a better look.”
The loudest siren silenced as a police car rolled to a stop.
“Okay, sir. The police are there. I’m going to let you go now so you can speak with the officer.”
Samantha Lawrence pressed the garage door button from her car. As the door slowly rose, the bright interior light came on. She winced as the illumination spilled out onto the dark driveway and the damaged front of her red BMW. She pulled in and pressed the button again. The noise of rollers seemed louder than they’d ever been before.
Close. Close. Before anyone hears and sees me.
The door finally closed. She shoved the gear shift into park and fumbled past the fabric from the deployed airbag to reach the ignition and turn off the engine. For a moment, she leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes, seeking an escape that didn’t come. The vision of the bicycle, the rider flying into the air and hitting her windshield, and the airbag exploding in her face flashed in front of her.
She pushed the airbag up over the steering wheel and got out of the car. Surprised by how steady she was, she entered the house, turned off the alarm, and flicked off the garage light. She knew it would have gone off by itself in a few minutes, but she didn’t want to chance anyone noticing it through the panes at the top of the garage door.
As she walked into the dark kitchen, her steadiness evaporated. Waves of fear washed over her.
What have I done?
Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor.
Choices is a story of forgiveness and reconciliation. Available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and wherever fine books are sold.
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