Unsafe Haven

by Betsy Ashton

  “Tell me the truth. Is Alex going to be all right?” Whip asked. I imagined him running his hand through his hair, as he always did when he was upset.

  “Yes. He broke his leg. Johnny did a terrific job in trail triage. Dr. Running Bear—”

  “Did I hear you right?” I imagined Whip’s eyes popping wide open.

  “You did. We’re in a Native American hospital with a mostly Native American staff.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in Albuquerque or Santa Fe?” Whip demanded. Like me, he wanted the best for his son. “Hold on. Em told me not to worry about Dr. Running Bear.”

  “She’s right,” I assured him.

  “Let me put Em on. She’s glaring a hole in my forehead.” The phone changed hands. I went through the same information dump, such as it was, with my granddaughter, certain that I was doing little beyond confirming what she already knew.

  “He’ll be all right. Dr. Running Bear will take good care of him. Please don’t worry,” Emilie said. The familiar rush of warmth from Emilie enveloped me, letting me know she was on the job. We talked for many minutes before I thumbed the cell off. An unseen feather brushed my cheek, demanding answers, too. I called Ducks, my other sensitive, who manifested his unseen presence as a soft touch like a feather on my cheek.

  Time to refill my cup and check in with my best friends, Eleanor and Raney, to tell them what happened.

  “You won’t believe it,” I said as soon as I was connected with both of them. “I’m in a hospital outside of Santa Fe.”

  Raney cut in before I could continue. “Are you all right?”

  Eleanor added, “What happened? You’ve been in New Mexico, what, a couple of days?”

  “Isn’t it a little too soon even for you to get in trouble?” Raney teased.

  I told them about the ride, the fall, the helicopter trip, and Dr. Running Bear.

  “And yes, that’s his name. Em says he’s good.”

  “She would know,” Eleanor said, ice cubes clinking in her pre-dinner cocktail.

  “Alex is in surgery right now because the break was pretty bad.”

  “Sounds as though you have everything under control,” Raney said.

  Past experience reminded me they’d be on the next flight if I needed them. More than once, these Great Dames, part of my Manhattan bridge and ‘tini group, held me up when I needed help. I’d played bridge and consumed gallons of martinis with four women for years. While I loved them all, Raney and Eleanor were special. I could always turn to them. My alter egos, they formed a Greek chorus in my life.

  “I’m fine.” I assured them Johnny and I were handling everything.

  When I’d satisfied them, and caught up on the gossip of the last two Great Dames who weren’t on the call, I took my coffee and retraced my steps to the waiting room.

  A worried couple came in right as I finished texting Whip and Emilie again. I was bored and wanted to chat about normal things to keep my mind occupied with something other than Alex’s surgery. The couple paused in the doorway until I closed my phone and smiled at them. We exchanged pleasantries in Spanish—I’d become fluent after two years living and working around Mexican-American construction workers. Their three-year-old daughter had a ruptured appendix, which required emergency surgery. Like me, they would stay with her until she could go home.

  I sat in an unforgiving plastic chair, Alex’s filthy clothing in a bag beside me, his scuffed boots on the floor. Those boots led directly to Alex’s injury. But I couldn’t blame them, any more than I could blame the curiosity of a thirteen-year-old on the beginning of a new adventure. I wished more than once that his boots had rubber soles, though.

  ###

  Johnny had stopped at Hillson’s Western Wear on the way from the airport to his ranch to buy Justin boots, “the best brand and the one most ranchers wear.” Alex had run directly to a display of fancy dress boots.

  “Hey, Uncle Johnny. I want these.” He held up a pair of carved leather boots, black with red inserts.

  “Put those back. They’re dude boots. You want to look like a real cowboy, don’t you?”

  “Well, yeah.” Alex cast a last loving glance at the display before sulking his way over to the flat-heeled boots Johnny held up. “They’re so boring,” Alex said.

  “And they’re just what you need.” Johnny called to a salesman to measure Alex’s feet.

  While the men discussed the demerits and merits of flat-soled versus high heels, round toes versus pointy, I was in Alex’s camp—fancy boots. A pair with fringe screamed, Buy me! But I wouldn’t indulge myself when my grandson couldn’t as well. I tried on several pairs of ropers, as Johnny instructed us to call them, before settling on a pair of oxbloods.

  “I know you want the fancier boots, but your new ones will be more comfortable,” Johnny said. “Hey, what do you think I wear? I sure don’t wear dude boots to work.”

  We walked to the cashier, and Alex froze in front of a wall filled with every model of hat imaginable. “Can I have that one?”

  He pointed to a wide-brimmed rodeo hat.

  “No.” No matter how Alex wheedled, Johnny didn’t budge on the Stetson. “You don’t need a cowboy hat. Besides, you have to earn the right to wear one. Your baseball cap will do just fine.”

  When Alex turned to me, I raised one finger before folding my hand into a clam shape. He shut up.

  ###

  On my coffee and snack run, I found a tiny kiosk and perused the three books offered—a romance, a Western, and a thriller by one of my favorite writers. Luck was with me. I hadn’t read this one yet. I left with a promise to pay for it in an hour or so. At least I’d have something to occupy my time until Johnny got there and Alex was out of recovery. I read a few chapters. I must have dozed, because the next thing I knew, Johnny kissed the top of my head. I sat upright, my neck popping.

  “Hey, pretty lady. How’s Alex?”

  “I don’t know, funny man.” I looked at the clock. Seven-thirty. “The surgeon said the operation should take about two hours. It’s been over four.”

  Johnny put his arm around me. “He’ll be fine. I brought your bag, your overnight kit, and Alex’s iPod. I figured he’ll want his tunes when he wakes up.”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t let him take anything electronic except his cell on the trail ride.”

  As if he’d been waiting for Johnny’s arrival, Dr. Running Bear pushed through the double doors. He walked over, smiling. I introduced Johnny.

  “I reset the bones. Whoever pulled them inside the skin did a terrific job. The tibia was nearly back in alignment.” He gestured for us to sit.

  I jerked my head toward Johnny. “He did.”

  “Are you a doctor?”

  “Army medic. I set more fractures of all kinds than I care to remember.”

  The doctor processed the information and gave us the rundown. “Alex did fine. I put some permanent screws and a plate in his tibia, plus a couple of large, temporary screws to keep everything in place. They poke through the skin, so I don’t want you to be surprised when you see him. It’s standard operating procedure. The fibula will heal without screws.”

  “Standard operating procedure? Surgeon’s humor?” I liked this doctor.

  Dr. Running Bear laughed. “I didn’t even realize I said that. But yes, to the humor and to my standard practice.”

  “The operation took longer than you anticipated.” I glanced at the clock again.

  “In spite of the good job Mr. Medina did, I had to clean a lot of debris out of the wound. Several small blood vessels suffered punctures. We closed them.” Dr. Running Bear pulled his cap off, shaking shoulder-length black hair free.

  “What else?” I asked. The surgeon was holding something back. Had Emilie been here, she’d have asked the question. The tiniest flush of acknowledgment rippled through my body.

  “Alex had some difficulty breathing once we got him under, probably due to his broken ribs and any dust he inhaled when he fell. We had to continually ad
just the oxygen-gas mixture to keep him sedated.”

  “He’ll be fine, though?” Johnny asked.

  “He will.”

  “How long will he be here?” I asked.

  “I’d like to keep him for a day or two. Inhaling dust can lead to pneumonia, so I’m starting him on intravenous antibiotics just to be safe.” Dr. Running Bear looked at me. “Do you live around here?”

  “We don’t. Right now, Alex, Johnny, and I live in RVs with the rest of our weird extended family on a construction site in Mississippi.” I gave Dr. Running Bear the short version of our living arrangements. For the past two years, the extended family lived in a series of RVs, plus a retired John Madden bus where our home-school teacher lived. The RVs were surrounded by construction equipment, smaller trailers, and large tents housing the crew of highway engineers and contractors that helped rebuild after Katrina. I thought about the impossibility of keeping Alex quiet and his wound clean.

  “Taking him to an RV park is not an acceptable option,” Dr. Running Bear said.

  “It’s not even an RV park. It’s a group of RVs and trailers in a fenced enclosure adjacent to a major construction zone.”

  “Even riskier. We’ll talk about release protocols after we see how he progresses.” The doctor rose to leave. “I’ll send a nurse to bring you to the recovery area. He should be waking up in little more than an hour.”

  “Good. That’ll give me time to go through the insurance business downstairs,” I said.

  “The cafeteria stays open all night, if you’re hungry.” Dr. Running Bear shook my hand and then Johnny’s before he returned to the surgical suite.

  “We might be here longer than we planned, huh, pretty lady?”

  “Maybe I should take Alex to Richmond or New York. I could have my company send our corporate jet. Or I could charter a plane.” Commercial aviation is out of the question.

  “Here’s pretty nice, too. If you had to, you could stay at the ranch. My brother wouldn’t mind, and my sister-in-law would be glad to have you,” Johnny said.

  “Let’s see how everything goes. I don’t want to be a bother, funny man.”

  “Fat chance of that, pretty lady.” Johnny put his arm around me, and we went down to admissions to make Alex’s stay legal.

  “By the way, one of your high school admirers is looking forward to seeing you again.” I winked. “I forgot her name, but she remembers you as being really cute.”

  Johnny turned red as a desert sunset.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I’M SURE I looked as fatigued as I felt, because after leaving admissions, Johnny led me to the side of a corridor, where we paused.

  “Alex will be fine.” He pressed me against the wall, moved in close, and kissed me.

  I took a deep, albeit shaky, breath. “I hope so.” During the wait, I’d tried to shrug off my concerns, but my mind was having none of it. I rested my head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady.

  “It’s seems like I can’t plan anything, or go anywhere, without something happening to a member of our family, or something happening to upset our plans. I’m so tired of it.”

  “I understand. This was supposed to be Alex’s grand adventure. None of us planned for him to break his leg and spend a night or two in the hospital. Am I right?”

  “You are. I looked forward to getting away and kicking back for a while. I wanted Alex to be a free-range kid while I loafed and left some of my duties behind.” I looked up at Johnny. “And now this.”

  “It’s only a small setback. We’ll reschedule.”

  I nodded but wondered how we would fit in Alex’s birthday gift again. Our schedules were squeaking tight. The last time we did anything just for the hell of it was when Johnny and I escaped the construction site for a weekend in the French Quarter. That trip ended in a pillow fight. I grinned at how silly we’d been.

  “Do you remember Eleanor’s advice after Merry’s funeral?” Johnny turned me gently and led me down the corridor toward the lobby stairs. The only light coming through the tall front windows was from halogen lights in the hospital turnaround. Full dark shrouded the hospital.

  “You mean about leaning on others and not feeling I have to do everything myself?”

  “That’s the one.” Johnny kept his arm across my shoulders. “Let me help.”

  We walked the corridors between wards to give me sorely needed exercise. My body craved the endorphin rush a strenuous workout offered as much as it craved coffee, good food, and good sex. Alex wouldn’t be in the hospital long enough to need a workout room, but the corridor in front of us presented a straightaway perfect for roller blading. I’d done plenty of that in Richmond and Mississippi, as well as biking.

  “Dr. Running Bear said Alex will probably be able to leave tomorrow or the next day. There’s no need to set up a shift schedule,” I said.

  “If he’s here longer, we’ll alternate. You take one night, and I’ll take the next,” Johnny said.

  “That would work. We can’t both stay. His room’s pretty small.” I planned to commandeer a reclining chair for the night.

  “I don’t want you to get overly tired, pretty lady.” He hugged me. “This is supposed to be a vacation for you, too. Besides, I want some quality time with you alone.”

  “And it’s all right if you get overly tired, funny man? Where would that leave me?” I tapped his chest.

  “We both need to stay alert, but I’d rather be here with you. We have to focus on Alex’s wellbeing.”

  “Alex and I aren’t going anywhere. You should go back to the ranch for the night,” I told him.

  “Okay. Do you want me to bring anything special in the morning?”

  “Call me before you leave. I’ll need a change of clothes and another book. I put a couple on the table next to our bed. I’ll know what else after I’ve talked with Dr. Running Bear.” I rubbed my temples.

  Johnny kissed more than the top of my head before leaving for the ranch. I walked him out to his truck and watched until his taillights faded into a faint, pink smudge.

  Regardless of posted warnings against the use of cell phones anywhere on hospital grounds, I noticed them poking from staffers’ pockets. When I made a dozen calls throughout the course of the evening, no one paid attention.

  I checked in with Alex before trying to settle in to wait for morning. A blood pressure cuff on his right arm pumped itself up every thirty minutes, a clip on his right forefinger monitored his pulse oxygen levels, a cannula looped around his ears with plastic prongs in his nose delivered oxygen to his lungs, and an IV bag for fluids and medications dripped into his left arm. Had he been more aware, he would have pretended to be a super hero, or at least thought that all the tubes and gadgets were way cool. Had he not been monitored so closely, his room might have been quiet enough for me to concentrate on my new book. As it was, I was just too restless to sit and watch a child sleep.

  I did another walkabout an hour or so after Johnny left. I paced corridors and checked in to see if the cafeteria was open all night, as Dr. Running Bear promised. It was, but I discovered I wasn’t hungry. I was coffee-d out as well.

  I stepped outside and sucked in fresh, unfiltered air. The hospital was far enough from human density that I detected no traces of city pollution, no light smudging the sky. A highway of stars stretched across the night sky; the moon was a sliver; the planets winked and laughed in the void. Are there sentient beings up there looking down at us, wondering if there’s intelligent life here? Or would they think the planet is populated by idiots and blowhards?

  I sat on a carved bench beside the door, my back to the emergency entrance, and imagined I was sailing away on the Milky Way. Other than when my last husband and I were on our sailboat in the middle of the Atlantic, I was rarely in a place where I could so vividly see the galaxy. In the distance, flashing red lights heralded the approach of a silent ambulance.

  On my return to the medical-surgical ward, where Alex had been
transferred, I met another restless parent, the father from the waiting room. He and his wife had slipped out while I was dozing and were gone when Johnny woke me.

  “How’s your little girl?” We stopped in the middle of the corridor.

  “She’s going to be all right. She goes home tomorrow after the final tests and check up with the doctor.” He stretched his shoulders.

  “That’s great.”

  “Yes. Her sisters miss her. They’re staying with their aunt,” he said. “How is your grandson?”

  “Groggy, but doing all right. Thanks for asking.” I continued on to Alex’s room, where I found him asleep. He’d been in and out of consciousness, still under the effect of the anesthesia. I sat by his bed and called Whip. It might be close to the middle of the night in Richmond, but we’d spoken an hour or so earlier. He and Emilie would still be awake.

  “You and Em should come out.” I massaged one temple, where a persistent headache had moved in rent free. “Alex is going to be here for a day or two, nothing long-term or frightening. Nothing like it was with Merry, but he’s still a kid. He’ll want to see you two.”

  Smells of disinfectant and alcohol, the snap of vinyl gloves, and the not-quite-silent rubber-soled nurses’ shoes threw me back to our long vigil at Merry’s bedside. Either Whip or I had stayed with her around the clock while she was in a medically-induced coma to reduce swelling in her brain.

  I sat straight. If the small of my back didn’t touch the back of the padded chair, I would stay alert and on guard against any bogeymen that might threaten my grandson.

  “I agree. Em’s checking flights as we speak.” Whip’s pacing echoed through the phone. His habit of bouncing off walls when upset or nervous might have been compounded by his incarceration—after he was wrongly charged with Merry’s murder—but he had always been antsy.

  After a minor shuffle in the background, Emilie took the phone from her father.