Between Crosswalks

It happened on a Tuesday just after the rain.

Melissa Caldwell, thirty-four, mother of two, and beloved second-grade teacher at Bay Ridge Elementary, was driving home with half her mind on tomorrow's lesson plan. A potent beam of sunlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the windshield with a glare. She squinted, eased toward the bend near the park, where the crosswalk curved into the trees.

Then—a sound.

A thud. A breath stolen from the world.

She braked hard, scrambled out, heart thrashing. The world narrowed to a single, small form on the pavement.

Emma Whitlock. Her neighbor. Her daughter's best friend.

Melissa fell to her knees beside her, hands trembling—a scraped cheek, limp limbs. The tiny otter plush was crushed beneath her side.

Sirens arrived. People gathered. Voices blurred.

Claudia came running, her scream sharper than the ambulance wail.

Melissa tried to speak—"I didn't see her, I didn't…"—but no words helped.

No alcohol. No speeding. No distractions.

Just horror. The only frantic words Melissa did mutter in prayer were "Are you there, God, it's me.....Melissa. Please let Emma be okay!"

Police called it a tragic accident. No arrest. No charges. "Pending further review."

Which only made it worse.

The town didn't know what to do with Melissa.

Some dropped off casseroles. Others whispered in the grocery store. The PTA sent flowers and a politely worded letter asking her to step down "for the community's comfort."

The school placed her on indefinite leave.

Her classroom stayed dark. Her mailbox was filled with sympathy cards and pointed reminders of duty and caution. Her children, Lydia and Paul, stopped riding bikes and whispered too softly when they asked if Emma would ever wake up.

Melissa dreamed of Emma's laugh. Then, at the moment, she didn't see. The moment everything changed.

Claudia stayed silent.

The porch light never turned on. Her phone never rang.

Melissa left flowers. Cards. A plush otter with a handwritten note: For when Emma wakes up.

None were accepted. Once, she tried to knock. Claudia opened the door just enough to speak:

"You are not welcome here."

"She ran out without looking," Melissa said. "I braked. I tried."

"You hit her."

"I loved her too."

Claudia's face twisted. "That's what hurts."

Emma didn't die.

She stood in a coma. Machines were blinking, and nurses made adjustments to the pillows. Doctors made their charts of possible maybes and ifs. Melissa went to the hospital for a visit late at night, when there was nobody available to see her. Sometimes, all she did was sit in the lobby staring at nothing. Other times, she made a peek through the glass, just watching Emma sleep, and imagined hard what her voice used to sound like.

On one of these nights, a nurse paused beside her and recognized her. "You're Ms. Caldwell, am I right?" he asked softly. "She did manage to move her hand earlier. It wasn't much. But it is a start."

Melissa pressed her palms together. "Did she… did she wake?"

"Not yet. But it's a start."

Melissa didn't reply. Just cried silently, the way she did now, like apologizing to the universe.

She hoped with all her heart and soul that Emma would wake up. But it seems her prayers went unanswered for a long while. Maybe it was punishment for her crashing the car into Emma. Melissa didn't know, but she couldn't blame God for anything; the accident was her fault and no one else's.

Weeks passed. It seemed like nothing good was going to come from the whole string of unfortunate events. Melissa's heart kept right on breaking for Emma, but nothing stopped her from hoping, as well as praying for a miracle that the child would suddenly wake up.

People forgot, but not really. They were angry at Melissa, and with good reason. A little girl was almost killed tragically. Even though it was entirely an accident, it was still wrong, and many were mad about it. Nonetheless, the desire to get back at Melissa didn't make any sense, as these people didn't know her for the good person that she was and had always been in the community. Some, on the other hand, sought revenge, wanting her to suffer truly. Yes, she did suffer already, and she would always suffer for a long time to come. Those who were out for blood were doing things to hurt Melissa personally.

Someone vandalized Melissa's car. "Killer" was scratched into the side door. Her car tires were also slashed, and somebody completely shattered the glass on her windshield.

The police did offer her protection. Nonetheless, she openly refused. She was agreeing to let them all see what they wanted. She wasn't afraid of being judged.

Melissa's two children watched cartoons a lot more now and spoke less. Brian started to sleep with the light on in his room. Colleen didn't ask anymore when things would return to normal. Melissa decided to resign without any protest from teaching.

"I just can't stand in front of these kids," she explained to the principal. "I no longer deserve to have the right to do it."

The principal tried to protest, but his voice just cracked, so he let her go.

Then, out of the blue, Emma did stir. She was regaining consciousness.

Her fingers twitched. Her lips moved.

She said one word: "Sky."

Claudia called her.

Melissa nearly dropped the phone. "I didn't think you'd ever…"

"Emma asked for you, " Claudia mentioned. Her voice was very low. "She remembers a little of what happened."

"Is she alright?"

"She's alive, which is important."

Melissa made sure to drive carefully. Her hands were positioned at ten and two. It was slow and measured, but inside, she still felt a bit terrified.

The hospital room felt hot. Emma was lying there awake, her eyes blinking slowly. Tubes were trailing along the blankets. Her hair was pulled back away from her face with a pale-colored blue clip.

Claudia stood beside her.

"She said," Claudia began, "she remembers seeing the sun. And the trees. And running."

Melissa stepped closer.

Emma turned her head. "Miss Caldwell?"

"Hi, sweet girl," Melissa whispered, her voice breaking. "You scared us."

Emma gave a faint smile. "I ran to get my otter. He flew into the street."

Melissa knelt. "He's right here." She placed the plush beside her hand.

Emma pressed it to her chest.

The community didn't forgive quickly.

But there was no trial. No jail. Only loss.

Melissa applied to volunteer at the local community center, located far from classrooms and away from any car-heavy intersections.

She baked muffins for fundraisers. Helped at quiet corners. Wrote thank-you notes.

People avoided her still. But not all.

One parent nodded solemnly at her during a library event.

Another left a daisy on her porch.

Melissa knew she'd never be the same. She didn't want to be.

One afternoon, months after the accident, Claudia rang the doorbell.

Melissa and Claudia decided to sit on the porch to unwind. They drank some cold iced tea as a strong breeze rustled through the sycamore trees.

"Emma would like you to visit her," Claudia explained. "She said that you did try to catch her."

"I wish that I had," Melissa commented softly.

"She does forgive you," Claudia continued. "It doesn't mean that it didn't happen, because it did, but it simply means we can go on okay."

Melissa's hands trembled. A part of her was very nervous about the future.

So they went on.

Emma came back stronger, slower, but full of wonder.

And Melissa—every step she took was cautious, intentional. Not to undo what was done.

But to honor it.

Melissa was planning to return to school to study American Sign Language. She still wanted to make a difference in the lives of children, and this tragedy revealed a new calling to her. She would assist special children who were deaf or hard of hearing by teaching them sign language. Emma's near-death experience opened her eyes in a significant way to the importance of teaching. Sure, she loved teaching elementary school, but now she was headed in a new direction altogether. Teaching deaf students how to communicate in their own way was inspirational, and this was something Melissa needed in her life now. God gave her a second chance, and she was going to honor that reality by becoming a unique kind of teacher like no other. She wanted to give back in some way, and this was the best way, she decided for herself.